


Second Chances

by Warlady



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Comfort/Angst, F/M, Interspecies Relationship(s), M/M, Sexual Violence, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-17 03:16:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 38,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2294756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warlady/pseuds/Warlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Optimus Primes sacrifices his life to release the Allspark, the Autobots and Decepticons have to find a way to get along in peace. Changes have to be made, foes have to turn into allies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Settling scores

**Author's Note:**

> Gratitude to SweetSpark, my betareader.

"We are here to settle scores." Predaking had said.

Starscream shrank before the mech-beast's glowing optics. He suddenly feared his end was at hand. He was one of the few that had survived a long war, the passing of beloved fellows, besides physical abuse from an uncaring and violent master and now, just like that, he was going to be extinguished.

As he trembled in fear, visions of doom passed through his processor in a nanoklik. What did this "settlement of scores" entail? Did it mean torture? Mutilation? …Perhaps evisceration? He assumed it was going to be all of them until they would finally rip his spark from its chamber and crush it with their clawed servos.

But, the seeker's assumptions were wrong. For the predacons' intentions were far worse than anything he had imagined.

When Predaking grabbed him by his wings, turned him, crushed his frame face first against the floor and forcefully parted his legs with his massive servos, he realized what the retaliation they intended to inflict upon him would be. He kicked and writhed, trying to dislodge himself from the claws of the predacon, only to be kept in place with brutal force by the other two beasts.

They raped him, all of them, all three. One by one, they forced their disgusting huge spikes inside his dry, tight valve. He shrieked in pain, in humiliation, in impotence, feeling how his innards were stretched beyond their limits. Every time he tried to disentangle himself from the iron grip they had on him, he was clawed or bitten into submission, though not enough as to maim him further.

The beasts pounded into him violently, breaking delicate tissue, tearing away fragile nodes of nerves and forcing open his gestational chamber entrance. He had tried hard not to cry, not to let his coolant tears fall, but when he felt the first load of Predaking's abominable seed spilling into his chamber, he howled while his optics were overflowed by coolant. After that, Darksteel and Skylynx had done exactly the same, until he could feel the most pristine part of his body full with their transfluid. He cried himself hoarse; the rivers of his tears stained his face plates.

Once they had their way with him, they towered over his prone form. "We could terminate you, Starscream, rip your unworthy spark from you. But, no. That would be far too generous. We will leave you now. Maybe you will live long enough to feel the effect of our seed inside you. Who knows? If you do live long enough, our spawn will claw their way out from your filthy body." Predaking's words elicited a fit of laughter from the other two Predacons.

And, just as soon as they had come, they left.

The seeker was reduced to a whimpering mass of pain and agony. He had been violated, humiliated beyond words. His gestation chamber, the only place that he had kept closed and chaste, was now soiled. He bawled like a sparkling; lying on his side he curled, pulling his knees to his chest. He cried until power-down claimed him.

TBC


	2. Angel's Triumvirate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream is found, and his life is saved...to some extent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos for SweetSpark22, my beta and style corrector.

Cybertron had been restored to its former life-sustaining glory. The cities were reduced to ruins, but the planet was again in appropriate condition to sustain inhabitants. The Allspark had released its power, bringing new creatures to life. The news about this late advance had been sent to the space, and many of the Cybertronians that had left during the massive exodus were going to arrive.

But, meanwhile, the current ones were enjoying the environment of the renewed planet.

Nobody could rejoice more in such conditions than the flyers. The icy dry air, free of particles, clouds of steam and uneasy currents of wind was just perfect for them. Even for the Earth alt modes of the Vehicons, the Cybertronian sky was just wonderful.

"Now this is what I call great weather, isn't it?" Vehicon ST3V3, a.k.a. Steve commented, a sigh of delight in his deep silky voice. He was flying in the center of the formation, his two brothers at his sides.

"Indeed. Earth was nothing like this." Vehicon AX3L7, a.k.a. Axel purred in bliss, doing some axial rolls.

"Easy, Axel. Don't waste energon on acrobatics. Remember, we are low in our reserves." Vehicon 6AC34, a.k.a. Ace, warned his companion with his acute voice.

"Kill joy!" spat Axel.

"You will not say that when we have to drag your offline frame away once you run out of fuel!" Ace exclaimed with a sharp falsetto.

"Cease that rant, both of you! Ace is right; we have to reach the hideout and collect as much Energon as possible if we want to survive another solar cycle." Steve's statement was full of worry. Certainly the planet was alive, but the Energon was still scarce and couldn't mine from the asteroids near the planet, as it had already been done in olden times.

"We could abandon Shockwave and join the 'bots, you know? They are in good graces with the fleshies, and they are mining on their planet. They would accept us. Knockout is working with them…" Ace didn't finish his sentence.

"Your fixation with that grounder spawn of the Pit is unnerving. You know he was an officer, and due to his origins he is treated decently among the Autobots. But, we are not equal; our comrades are working as slaves, rebuilding the cities with their bare servos. Would you prefer that life of servitude?" Axel exclaimed.

"We serve Shockwave, what is the difference?" Ace asked.

"Shockwave gave us this life. Besides, I see Axel's point; we are not built for hard work in the mines or construction. We are the closest thing to Seekers. We are made to fly." Steve sighed. In all honesty, he understood the fascination Knockout inspired in Ace as he also had a fixation with one of his former officers. Starscream's mere presence used to stir his desires, and his proximity made his frame burn in yearning for his attentions. "Darkmount is in sight, brothers. The hideout is…Starscream!" his exclamation surprised his brothers.

"You, too? Steve, this is not the moment to-" Axel grunted.

"It's him, there, atop the tower! Something is wrong." Steve's engines roared and he left the formation, diving lower at top speed to the location.

The other two followed him at once.

Just a few meters from the floor of the plateau atop the tower, they changed to their root modes and landed on their pedes. They approached the pitiful sight of their former commander. Steve kneeled beside the Seeker.

Their face plates, now free from the masks they wore during war times, clearly showed their shock.

"What happened to him?" Axel was perplexed. The damage inflicted upon the mech was extensive; deep claw and bite marks marred his entire frame, his lustrous finish was scratched, totally gone in some places, and innumerable dents were everywhere over his body, which was curled into a fetal position.

"Is he…?" Ace emitted a soft whine.

"His spark is fading, I can feel it." Steve took the slight frame in arms and lifted it from the ground.

To their utter shock, the new position revealed the evidence of a sexual attack clear as day. Large stains of transfluid were all over his thighs, his ventral plates, even his face plates, and already drying. The cover of his valve was gone, leaving him exposed to the optics of the Vehicons.

"Primus! He was raped!" Axel exclaimed.

Steve felt his spark thrumming in indignation and pain. His beloved seeker had been violated to horrible extents; the vision of the uncovered, broken valve was terrible; it was expanded, the tissue hung in shreds. The Vehicon felt his optics overflow with coolant and he growled in impotent anger. Suddenly he saw something alarming. Transfluid leaked from what was left of Starscream's valve, and after that, a copious stream of Energon started to flow.

"Shockwave, I'm sending coordinates for a ground bridge. Soldier fallen, emergency!" Axel sent a request to their base on his comm-link.

"Who has fallen?" the cold voice of the former Decepticon inquired.

"Commander Starscream. He is severely wounded." Axel replied.

"Ground bridge on way. One of you carry the Seeker here, the other two proceed with the original mission."

As the vortex of light opened a few meters from them, they only had to look to each other to know what to do. They were a trine now, and words were not needed.

Steve entered the bridge with Starcreams in his arms while Axel and Ace continued into the hideout.

The two Vehicons knew that the energon would be a pressing necessity now more than ever.

*****

Steve paced while Shockwave maneuvered over the prone frame of Starscream.

The flow of spilled energon had been stopped by the scientist. He was not a medic, but he surely was very familiar with the physiology and functioning of the cybertronian body, as he had dismantled many of them in his experiments. He knew enough to recognize when a mech would survive, and Starscream was lucky enough to be found in time.

"Starscream is as well as he can be, given the mistreatment the Predacons inflicted on him. After a few solar cycles in stasis, he will have recovered to some extent." Shockwave said nonchalantly, realigning the clinical berth to place the seeker into a position to begin the stasis procedure.

"Mistreatment? Those beasts nearly shredded his protoform from the inside out! You know very well we are criminals of war, but rape is not a common crime, it's heinous and aberrant!" Steve ranted, forgetting who he was talking to.

"They are not aware of the Cybertronian code of conduct, or a code of conduct of any kind to be more precise. They predate any civilized epoch of this planet." The single-optic mech explained while opening ports in the battered form of the seeker and manipulating the cables and lines to plug in them.

"You said to some extent. What does that mean?"

"He will be functioning, but his interface array is damaged beyond repair. The valve is completely destroyed. I doubt even his spike will be useful again; most of the lines that carried sensatory signals and energon lines that allowed pressurization are irreparably broken." His voice was as cold as always, but deep inside, Shockwave was truly sorry for Starscream. The flashiness and utterly over sexual attitude of the seekers was well known and even he could not deny the appeal such qualities gave to them. An asexual seeker was not whole.

"But, he will survive." Steve sighed in relief. "Such parts can be replaced, can they not? I will be honored to donate my own…"

"You are most generous, ST3V3, but no, they cannot be replaced." He was going to plug the last line to induce the stasis, when slight movements from Starscream made him stop.

The seeker on-lined his optics and looked around. "Shockwave? Where am I?" raspy voice.

"You are in one of my laboratories. I am going to put you in stasis to help you heal."

"They…the Predacons! Please, take out whatever they put in me. They opened my gestational chamber, for Primus sake! Take their spawns from me!" He cried out in utter horror.

"Although logical, Starscream, your assumption is wrong. The Predacons are barren; I overrode their fertility and made them incapable of procreation. It was the most logical thing to do, since such function was not necessary, even a liability given their priority mission as killers and hunters."

The seeker sighed softy, obviously relieved. "But, you didn't override their mating protocols."

"The violent compulsion and the sexual one go hand in hand"

"Put me into stasis, please, I think I am close to death. I can even see an angel standing at your side." He smiled almost sweetly at Steve.

Shockwave plugged in the last line and clicking a button induced stasis upon Starscream. The seeker reclined, offlining his optics as his body went slack.

"What is an angel?" Steve asked, truly confused.

"The designation is from ancient mythology. Such creatures were messengers from Primus, alleged to be the most pure and beautiful beings in the universe." Shockwave explained as he continued monitoring Starscream's vital signals.

"Me? An angel?" Steve went from utterly confused to totally ecstatic. Something that could only be called a goofy grin curved his lip plates.

"Your brothers will come soon and I need you to help them store the energon. Contact them and be ready to open the bridge for them." Shockwave commanded and saw how the Vehicon left, the strange expression still on place.

Vehicons were not aware of the gift Shockwave had given to them. Under the mask he designed to protect them in battle, they had beautiful faces. To be more accurate, a beautiful face, since each one had the same facial plates as to be undistinguishable from another.

From the beautifully shaped purple optics, to the pursed, almost feminine lip plates, placed on a lovely and harmonious face plate, Vehicon's were absolutely gorgeous. Angelic, that surely was a fitting description.

Shockwave's single optic dimmed, remembering the original design of his own face. It belonged to a time long since passed, to a Shockwave that was not so cold but a passionate one, a younger one who was as stupid as to experiment without caution. There was an explosion, a blinding light and the recovery from a long period in stasis. Nothing was left from his face plate, but a misshapen optic and a badly scarred mouth plate.

The hideous visage he wore now was nowhere near as horrid as what was hidden underneath, for his original faceplates could not be replaced. He touched his helm, running his servo around the big round optic. Yes, he understood what Starscream's life would become once he awoke from stasis.

TBC  
 


	3. Memories of an outcast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If the war had ended, if the Decepticons are no more, then what is left for Megatron?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My gratitude to SweetSpark22, my loyal minion...I mean beta-reader, she rocks.

 

After he was released by Unicron, he had confessed his mistakes, and he had declared the Decepticons were no more. And just like that, Megatron had fled.

The former warlord felt the need to go where everything had started, the pits of Kaon. So, he went to the ruins of the coliseum.

He had just arrived to the desolated place when he felt the sudden extinguishment of Optimus's spark. A terrible pain, as if his own spark had been torn apart, forced him to his knees. Then, it ended, and Megatron knew it.

They had been close, as close as two mechs could be. Optimus and Megatron were sparkbonded, or, to be more precise, Orion Pax and Megatronus were sparkbonded. But, it seemed Megatron's spark didn't know the difference, since he recognized that horrible sensation as the feeling of his once-beloved joining the Well.

"You had to sacrifice yourself, didn't you? You fool, you stupid, soft-sparked glitch!" He shouted to the empty ruins. But, the enormous ex-warlord's rant was cut off by his own anguished sobs, his optics clouded by the coolant tears he never thought himself capable of shedding.

*****

His quarters, next to the arena, were almost intact. Not surprising, considering they were deep underground. He had built them that way, as a reminiscence of the beginning of his existence as a low caste miner. The berth was gone, as well as the few possessions he once had. Nothing too valuable, though. It seemed the cave had been ransacked during the chaos before the massive exodus. But his secret vault, under the floor metal plating, remained untouched. Fuel would not be a trouble for him; he had saved a generous quantity of energon in that hideout back in his years as a gladiator.

Even though other mechs preferred to exchange their earnings for shanix, Megatron never liked the currency very much. He preferred to use energon to refuel, and save the rest. He only exchanged what was required to pay for the minimal necessities of oil, cleanser liquids, coolant, and the always basic visit to the medic after a particularly bloody fight.

He eased his frame to the floor, sitting with his backstruts resting against the wall - the furniture had been taken away, too. But, even without it, Megatron felt somehow at ease there. Mainly because that same chamber had been his refuge from the uproar of the arena; here, he could forget about the energon shed by his victims. Besides, the closed doors allowed him to leave behind the filth and poverty of the city. Kaon was a horrid place; arid and hot, filled with the slag of society.

Moreover, in this makeshift cave he had drank eagerly from the sweetest source of the universe: the lips of his two beloved ones.

Most cybertronians spent their entire life searching for a perfect match, without any success. But Megatron - a low-caste miner, an outcast and a criminal - had the amazing luck to share his bed and spark with, not just one, but two incredible beings.

A faint smile graced his scarred lip plates. Those moments of his life had been precious, a true haven from the disgusting life he had chosen. Of course, he had suppressed the full evocation of those memories; they had been moved from the outer positronic cortex of his processor to the deepest place inside his mind, locked away in a file that could only be activated if he ran a specific protocol to open them. The recollections he had at hand were only ghostly imprints left behind by the true information.

The decision to erase such memories from his immediate data banks was made thinking about his role as lord and master of the Decepticons. Those thoughts, and his access to them, could weaken his resolutions and cloud his better judge about his true path and task in the revolution.

"The war is over; I am no longer leader to the Decepticons, nor am I a conqueror." He whispered softly, while he activated the protocol to unleash the memories deep inside his brain.

A blinding surge of information ran through his processor connections, finding space in his outer cortex, first as a rush, a chaos of images, sensations, sounds, and feelings. Megatron shuddered; sometimes one of those streams came to his mind, raw and direct, with images that were painfully real, as if he were living them again. Then they nested in his data banks, falling in place like pieces of a puzzle, finally being locked again in place.

He examined those thoughts.

His first time with Orion Pax. Yes, Megatron had been his first. The cerulean optics of Orion Pax, filled with naivety and resolution. He relished in the memories of the smaller mech writhing in his embrace, that beautiful arch of his flexible spinal struts when the bliss of interface ran through his entire frame. Oh, what delicious and lovely moans... That voice had pushed Megatron beyond his senses. Ah, Primus, how stunning were his face plates when in the throes of passion, flushed bluish from the heat that was partly embarrassment and mostly arousal. The gladiator thrusted inside that delightfully tight valve. It had been painful for both of them, but how good it had felt when the pain finally dulled. Static had run through their outer armors, brilliant arcs danced on their forms, some strands caught their protoforms through the transformation seams making them shudder and spasm. The overload came strong and raw, tearing an acute scream from Orion and a guttural, animalistic roar from Megatron.

Megatron then recalled his first interface with his other beloved. Magnaria had been an outstanding femme, an incredible, beautiful creature brought to life by the union of a pleasure drone and a miner. He loved how her frame, feminine yet strong, had moved with seemingly impossible nimbleness over him. He had not been her first, but whoever had been had taught her well. She had medic servos. Those dexterous, spindly digits of hers had found every one of his hotspots, some that he hadn't even known existed. Their lovemaking had started slowly, with the calm brought by experience in both parts. But, it had escalated klik by klik. Primus, she was loud! And so strong! No matter how hard he pushed she could take it. To his utter surprise and delight she not only let him take her, but she spiked him too. She had made his first time on the receiving end one to remember.

Suddenly, two clicks sounded in the silence and Megatron looked surprised at his interface array, both his valve and his spike's covers had opened. Obviously, he had miscalculated the intensity of the arousal of his memories and their effects on him. Megatron laughed, truly laughed. Not a sneer, nor a maniacal cackle, but pure laughter, languorous and rich, his deep voice resounded with genuine mirth in the emptiness of the cave.

He took his spike in hand and noticed the fusion with Unicron's anti-spark had not changed that part of his anatomy. With some strokes he brought himself to full tilt pressurization. He groaned, feeling lubricant drip from his neglected valve. He swiftly inserted the digits of his other hand inside his wet cavity.

He dimmed the intensity of his optics while he imagined a scenario that had never happened: Magnaria behind him, spiking him, with all the dexterous movements she possessed, and Orion atop him, taking his spike inside his tiny, tight valve. Both of them beautiful in their own particular way, both loving and caring, both devoted to him in ways nobody had ever been. The sound of his fans whirring to life indicated the increasing heat. Soon, the usual flicker of static started to trail on his armor, forming voltaic arcs. Megatron felt his completion coming. So sudden, after denying himself the pleasure for so long, even through self-service, every fiber of his frame craved release. He let his helm fall backwards and let himself go. With a fierce growl he overloaded, his transfluid shooting in long streams, the lubricant from his valve forming a pool over the metal floor.

Sliding to lay fully on the floor, he ex-vented slowly, finally feeling recent events taking their toll on his processor. He fell into a deep, relaxed recharge, his first truly restful one in millions of years.

***********

He was brought out of recharge by the sound of something long forgotten.

"Is it rain?" He raised a quizzical brow. He remembered rain on Cybertron was mostly acidic, and in Kaon it could not only rust a mech but dissolve him.

He rose from the floor and looked down his frame. The covers of his interface equipment had closed, but all the fluids were now smearing his ventral plating, as well as his thighs down to his knee joints. "Oh, slag! I had forgotten about the mess!"

He walked to the door of his cave and opened it. With a good downpour he probably would be locked inside for some time.

In fact it was a good downpour. But, it was raining water!

"What in the Pits is happening?" Megatron extended his servo and dared to let the liquid touch one of his digits. It was cold water; the levels of acid were almost nil. He smirked. Yes, water comprised rain was something from ancient times, eons before his own era. Before the big cities and the caste system were established.

He closed his plating seams and stepped out. He let the streams of rain fall on his frame and wash away the grime and the sticky remains of his seed and lubricant. He even lifted his helm and felt the cold liquid bathing his face-plates. Once he felt clean enough, entered in the cave. He stayed in the door frame, watching the downpour for a long time.

"Primus fragging Unicron backwards, what would be the next thing? Energon rivers?" He chuckled; indeed the planet was alive again. Not like the one he remembered, but in its prime - no pun intended - when the Cybertronians were few and the craving of power and social position was not important.

The ex-gladiator felt elated in a way he had not felt in eons. But, something was nagging his processor.

Truly, being alone had proved to be a very healthy experience. His thoughts were in place, he had even take in the notion of Optimus Prime's death quite well. After all, Prime was pure goodness to the core, so probably his spark was in the very center of the planet, along with the sparks of the other Primes. 

But, he was sure being alone for long would drive him to madness. He had lived for millions of years surrounded by mechs, and one of them noisy enough to seem like ten. He shook his helm. Frag it all, he even missed Starscream, petty, screechy pest he was and all.

With Optimus gone, the ex-warlord figured his chances of joining the Autobots were similar to the amount of acid in this downpour. After all, the other Autobots were not as merciful or forgiving as Optimus had been. So, his most realistic option was Starscream and Shockwave.

He had kept his commlink closed to keep distractions at bay, but now it was necessary to pick up any signal of the other 'Cons, so he opened his commlink in every channel they used to communicate. Nothing, he waited, until a clear message reached him.

_"Shockwave, I'm sending coordinates for a ground bridge. Soldier fallen; emergency."_

_"Who has fallen?"_

_"Commander Starscream. He is severely wounded."_

Megatron felt his spark sink. Starscream, severely wounded. For Primus's sake, it had been less than two solar cycles and the seeker had already gotten into trouble. Serious trouble if the message was accurate. He left the cave, transforming into his alt mode and flew as fast as his powerful engines permitted. His best chance was to follow the last coordinates the vehicon had commed.

While he flew he was musing angrily. "If the Autobots have taken revenge against a poor, lonely seeker, I swear the war will begin all over again, even if I have to fight all of them by myself!"

TBC

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the ones that left kudos and comments, here it is at last, another chapter.


	4. Making Amends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron is well in his way to reformation, let's see how his prayers to Primus are answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to SweetSpark22, my beta, who polishes my fic's hard edges

Steve was still thinking about Starscream's words. 'I can even see an angel standing at your side.' That and a sweet smile directed toward him. 'Primus really loves me. I swear, I could be content with only those words and that smile for the rest of my life. It doesn't matter if Commander Starscream can't interface, I could happily remain by his side and take care for him; make his existence easier.'

"Steve? Steve, are you there?" The sudden call through his comm. link ripped him from his romantic musings.

"Yes, Axel, I'm here." He answered curtly. His pink bubble had been popped by something as worthless as a call from his brother.

"Well, brother, it seems you have problems with your comm. link; this is the third time I've called you. How is the seeker faring?"

"Commander Starscream is in stasis, but he will be fine." He stressed the seeker's title. For him, the war may be over, but he would always be his commander.

"Well, could you please open the damned ground bridge? We don't have all the day!" Megatron's voice in the comm. link cut any remains of Steve's dreamy cloud.

"Lord Megatron, are you back?"

"No, dimwit, you have direct line with Unicron's Pit. Of course I am back, now open that groundbridge at once, unless you want the Autobots to arrive and steal the energon from us."

Steve typed in the coordinates and activated the ground bridge.

The vortex of light opened and the ex-Lord of the Decepticons entered, his massive arms carrying more cubes of energon than the quantity the two vehicons could carry together.

The cubes were put in the floor.

"Let's go, we have to collect the rest." Megatron reentered the ground bidge, followed close by the vehicons.

*****

Steve was in shock. The last time he had checked, the leader of the Decepticons had been snuffed by the Autobot scout - Bumblebee was his designation? Since his brothers and he had been confined to the dungeons in the Nemesis due to their refusal to join with the others in the reconstruction, they had not received recent news. But, their leader returning from the Pit and having a whole set of upgrades in his frame was not something that could pass unnoticed. Perhaps they had missed such news while they were hiding after their escape. 

Even weirder, Megatron was helping them to carry heavy cargo? Well, it's not as though he could get tired. He remembered the stories about him. His impressive frame was not just for looks. He personally liked the stories of their lord's time in the Pits of Kaon as a gladiator. Steve had even listened with awe when he heard of how he had been a miner before that. Certainly, if Megatron had ever been a miner, he never showed it since all the mining work back in Earth was done by vehicons.

With the help of Megatron, they had collected to the last cubes of energon and stored them in record time. The ex-gladiator had worked with them, showing them how to pile up the cubes, the way to arrange them to use the storage space efficiently and within easy reach to mechs of any size.

"Well, that reserve was quite large. It will be enough for two orbital cycles at least, more if we are cautious with the rations. I have some more in a personal stash in Kaon, later we could go to fetch it."

"My lord, excuse me for being so bold, but… how?" Only Steve had the nerve to ask, while his brothers only accepted without question.

"Where have you been the last three solar cycles?" Megatron's voice was now poised, not menacing or urging. His EM field was tinted with calm, which was quite unusual for the belligerent warmonger.

"My lord, we were locked down in the brig of the Nemesis, because we didn't want to work as slaves for the Autobots. We wanted to fly freely. So, we escaped and decided to align ourselves with Shockwave." Steve considered he may have been too bold, but Megatron's EM made him feel confident.

Megatron smiled, he could see now something he had never known. The vehicons, without the masks, their voices not altered through the coder devices, and free to use EM field to show their feelings, were like any other mech. He felt something new surging inside his spark. Was it guilt? Yes, he felt guilty for treating those mechs - his mechs - as if they had held neither a spark, nor a mind of their own. "Well, here we will work for our dose of energon, but at least we will be our own, not slaves or servants."

Steve nodded, a smile gracing his beautiful lip plates.

"And, it's Megatron. I'm neither your lord, nor your leader anymore. Now, please lead me to Shockwave. I need to know of Starscream's condition."

******

Shockwave was not surprised in the least to see Megatron entering the laboratory; he had known the mech well enough to realize he could not stay alone or mourn for long periods; it was in his nature as a warrior to deal with problems the active way.

"So, it seems you have a very operative facility here, Shockwave. Tell me, how many laboratories you had?" Megatron inquired.

"It was logical to have many. Should the Autobots ever manage to bring down the operative one of that moment, I only had to move to a different one. I had been reorganizing to maintain this one fully stocked. There is enough room to lodge ten mechs, there are berths to spare, and communal wash racks."

Megatron nodded and in a swift examination his optics lay on the immobile frame of Starscream. "What happened to him?" His voice and EM field flared with worry and anger.

Shockwave filled him in on recent events, as monotone as always.

Megatron, on the other hand, was fuming. "Revenge?! Well, they really went too far with such an abhorrent crime. You know very well how rapists were dealt with back in Kaon. I know they are beasts, but I thought at least Predaking had an enough of a rational mind."

"I have them located if you want to…"

"Avenge Strarscream? No, not now, first we have to see to his recovery. I never thought I would say this, but I've missed him. Not his backstabbing nature, of course, but he had a good mind and his flashiness and flirtatious ways were always a relief in an amusing sense. I cannot believe even such a basic source of pleasure was taken from him in such a horrendous way. Are you entirely sure there is no way to repair him?"

"The reparation is not possible, nor is regeneration; the damage to the tissue was far too extensive. Right now, the stasis process is closing the main broken lines and cables so he will not lose more energon. The other cuts and scratches will heal, as well. I do not think even a medic could do more. You know, that delicate parts of mech's anatomy are unique to any individual. Even if we attempted cloning him, the clone's parts will be totally different and the transplant would not be successful. If anything, it could even lead to Starscream's demise."

Megatron once again felt that uncommon sensation; guilt was eating him alive, it seemed. He remembered all the times he had beaten the seeker, how the poor, little thing had cowered before his imposing form and begged for mercy. Truly, the seeker always wanted to vanquish him and take his place, but he was not the only one. Airachnid had been a lurking shadow that would gladly kill him if she had the chance, and he never put her in her place.

Moreover, Starscream had been the only one as audacious as to try to climb to his berth. Megatron flinched at the memory of the violent way in which he had kicked the seeker out of his chamber, not to mention the obscenities he had shouted at him. _'You don't dare to enter here, never ever again. You are lower than a whore to me. Go frag something to your level. Why don't you go to the vehicons' wash racks? Maybe they will have pity on you and let you suck their spikes.'_ He truly hated his capacity to remember every word, every feeling, every… He froze in middle of a berating himself. Yes, he indeed remembered everything, and something from the memories he had recently unlocked was quite interesting.

"I think I remember works of the methods of reconstructing a mech's body parts. I mean, that and a whole lot of other revolutionary medical and genetic experiments. I read them because the medic was a strong defender of the equality of all mechs." Megatron was glowing.

"You mean Welder's works and theories. Yes, I read them as well, and remember how The Cybertronian High Council almost invalidated his credentials as a medic. Moreover, he was stripped of his medical credibility, banned by the medical community and rendered the laughing stock of scientific board." Shockwave's voice lacked the sarcasm that could turn his words into a caustic rebuke.

"Well, yes, he lost most of his reputation, not to mention his friends, but he was a great doctor. I knew him when I was but a youngling, and he saved one of my legs from amputation. The doctor that attended the miners said I was going to lost it. I don't have to tell you how the High Council gave that latter their credentials, even though we all knew he was but a butcher and slag-trader. Welder did something to my leg that made it recover and regenerate, no stasis needed." Megatron's memories were clear; he remembered the cave in, the massive boulder that caught his limb, the vision of the joints, armor plating and protoform crushed beyond recognition. Then, just like that, in less than two solar cycles he was back at the mine, his leg restored, not a replacement but his own.

"That would be the solution to the seeker's ailment. But, Welder is most likely dead now, if not by war, by his advanced age."

"Yes, his spark rejoined the well long ago. But he had an apprentice, an heir to all his knowledge." The ex-warlord smiled fondly at the memory of that femme. "I know she will return to Cybertron now that the war is over. Magnaria promised me she will."

"Your bonded? She was Welder's apprentice? I assumed she was one of the… I mean, she lived in the bordello and was daughter of the owner and…" It was quite unusual for Shockwave be at a loss for words.

Shockwave's statement made Megatron growl in anger, but he could understand well why Shockwave had assumed such thing. "Magnaria was not a whore. Although raised in a bordello, surrounded by pleasure drones, prostitutes, and escorts, she chose to become a medic. She was a great one, and had top notch credentials. When she returns, we could ask her more about the theories of Welder."

He turned around, still a little hurt by the scientist's words.

*****

Lying on his berth, Megatron tried to enter recharge. He was restless, and his processor was quite alert, so he looked up to the ceiling of the room.

It had been a very interesting day. Guided by the coordinates the vehicon had given to Shockwave, he landed on Darkmount. From there, it had been a simple matter to locate the energy signature of the vehicons and follow it to their final destination. They were in one of Shockwave's hideouts. This was a smaller one, only used to store energon.

At first sight, they had thought Megatron was an Autobot. The physical changes he had suffered after his fusion with Unicron's antispark lead them to confusion. But his voice and EM field indicated his true identity.

He asked them about Starscream, and so they told him what they knew. One of them communicated to their base and the one called Steve had informed them about the seeker.

'And I helped them to carry the energon to the base. Primus, I don't even remember the last time I worked outside of battle.' Megatron was surprised by this fact. Fighting in the Pits and against Optimus was exerting, no doubt, but it always carried a bitter sensation. Working in the mines was hard and severely underpaid, though it was so different. There was some relief and even joy brought about by the jokes and talk with other miners, the stories and shared cheap high-grade at the end of the shift. Even the visit of the pleasure drones each orbital cycle brought some color and happiness to the usually dull existence of the workers.

While he was making a recount of the events of that day he realized he had not yelled, burst into a fit of wrath and he hadn't hurt anybody the entire time he was with the others. To his absolute surprise he even had been kind and tranquil, or close versions of that. He had felt guilt for the first time, a very disturbing and horrible sensation.

Minus the guilt, it was good to not be angry all the time, to feel the others acting without fear towards him. The shared moments of conversation with the vehicons had been quite amusing. 'Ace is such a femmeling, and Axel is a reckless one, but both are witty in their own way. Steve seems to be reserved, although he was brave enough to question me. And his answer! Well, I never imagined drones would have the desire to be free.'

He frowned, remembering the dire situation of Starscream. 'Prime, where ever you are, talk to that fragging git, Primus, and ask him to aid Starscream in getting better.'

Megatron started to feel the exhaustion carry him into recharge. 'Optimus, if only you were still here; I could take the little seeker to Ratchet. I feel that medic could probably provide better treatment to him. What a slagger you were, Prime. You terminate yourself when Cybertron needed someone like you, and nothing less, to recover.' He closed his optics and slowly drifted into recharge.

He was deep in recharge when a little spark appeared in the chamber, and silently slipped inside his chest.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments and kudos. Please take some seconds and drop me a line, your words are the fuel my creativity needs.


	5. The arrival of the fugitives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The arrival of the first exiled Cybertronians from the point of view of Knockout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My gratitude to SweetSpark22, my beta for Transformers Prime fandom.
> 
> Keep in mind this is AU and if Ratchet is in Cybertron instead Earth is purely my point of view. 
> 
> Introduction of an OC.

I'd never known a mech as competent, hard-working, and responsible as Ratchet. Although, I'd never known a mech as stubborn either. As his colleague, I had advised him to take some time off; to recharge at least a couple of hours.

Of course he had scoffed, grunted, and even directed some colorful invectives toward me. Yes, he was one of the most versed in obscenities of any kind that I'd known; which was a surprise, coming from an ex-decepticon such as myself. After all, I used to tend to a good deal of Vehicons and Eradicons in my medbay. Being side by side with them–and sometimes front to front or back to front–I thought I'd practically heard everything.

Evidently, I was wrong.

"It's been a decacycle, Ratchet. You have not recharged properly since Optimus' demise, and you have to…" the old slagger would not even let me finish.

"Cease the prattle, Knockout. I will not rest when there's work to be done. So long as there is a spark pulsing in my chassis, I will work to finish this new clinic. Optimus did not extinguish his spark in vain." He was talking again about his "old friend." Of course he had been in love with the leader - even from the other side of the lines, I had noticed the looks he gave to the big guy; optics shining and mouth watering like those of a hungry scraplet. Totally pathetic!

"Oh? Well, if you exert yourself until you offline, then there probably won't be a spark in your chassis." I insisted. Even though everybody looked at me as if I was only a totally dazzling optic-candy – which I am, of course – there was much more beyond my looks. I was competent enough as a doctor to know that, at this pace, he was going to fall into stasis. Meaning he would be as good as dead.

I made my decision. He was going to recharge of his own accord or I was going to force him into recharge without his permission.

"Ratchet, I mean it, you are losing some of your luster. You are low on energon too, aren't you? Yes, I know; you don't have time to fuel either. But, I'm worried about you." Primus knows I had enough experience in the field of seduction that I could have any mech at my mercy with a single wink of my optic or a lecherous smile and a tilt of my hip-joints. But, the stoicism of this medic was incredibly strong, so he probably required the bolder advance technique. So, I invaded his personal space with a sudden step forward, barely standing up on my pedes' points so I was face to face and chest to chest with him. "I don't want to lose you, Ratchet. I would be so lonely in this large, dreary clinic." Was that a hitch coming from his ex-vents? Slag, what beautiful optics he had, especially when they were that wide.

"Don't you dare, you flashy glitch. I... I won't let myself be seduced int…to…"

Ha! He stuttered! I swear I could hear his fans clicking, a little too loudly, a signal that he was trying hard to suppress their coming to life. Yes, I was good. At that rate we could have probably interfaced there and then, me against a wall or bent over the next examination berth – I loved those positions –. But, alas, I had other plans for him. Reaching my face plates a little more I kissed him straight on his lip plates.

I could say that he was not nearly as shocked as he would have to be. He felt even pliant under my touch, probably by the weakness of his frame, due to the lack of rest. But when I injected him the dose of sedative in his arms he truly was shocked and pushed me away.

"How dare you!" He exclaimed.

It probably was my bad luck, but in that moment Arcee, that damnable two-wheeler, was entering the room. Of course, the scene made her go ballistic. I was standing with the syringe empty still in my hand and Ratchet, her true fellow autobot – I was still under trial – was barely standing on wobbly legs.

"What have you done to him?" She powered up her gun and aimed at me.

In that instant Ratchet's pretty optics went offline and he fell towards me. I caught him. "Arcee, please give me a hand with him, would you? I will lay him on the examination berth."

She didn't relax a klick. "You have some nerve!"

I rolled my optics, was she still at the brink of psychosis or what? "It was a sedative, I had to make him recharge. Now help me, he is a heavy mech."

Arcee doubted, then powered down the weapon and grabbed Ratchet's legs. Wow, he had a nice set of legs; long and strongly shaped. Maybe with some upgrading, a change to a lighter, stronger alloy…

As soon as we put him on the berth I sighed. "Thank you, sorry for the odd looking situation, but I had to take him by surprise. He will rest for a good, long while. He's been skipping recharge for a decacycle and he hasn't had proper refueling. Which reminds me…" I opened a cabinet and took out some supplies and a medical bag of enriched energon. With utmost care, I inserted a line into one of Ratchet's arm ports and in no time energon was dripping from the bag to his systems. "There, when he awakes he will be totally refueled and shiny like new, so to speak."

"Careful, 'con, I'm watching you!" Slag of a femme she was.

"I am well aware of that, thank you for stating the obvious. Though it seems you are not watching your poor medic close enough. Unfortunate mech! He thinks if he doesn't wear his protoform out he won't be honoring Prime's sacrifice. He will need some words of comfort from your lot. Losing a beloved one is not easy, I should know." Of course I could relate, I was still missing Breakdown, after all. My berth felt incredible large and empty without him by my side; as it was, Ratchet was not the only one lacking some recharge.

It seemed my words had an affect on the two-wheeler; she actually looked contrite. "I know too, by personal experience." She vented out a sigh. It was a painful memory, no doubt. But, being the strong warrior I know she was, she caught herself and changed the subject. "So, you knew he was in love with Optimus?"

"Of course, it was obvious. A hopeless crush, since Primes were prohibited to involve themselves romantically or physically with other mechs. Being the kind of Prime Optimus was, I could say for sure he was as sacred as the Temple of Vos. A pity, having that gorgeous body and not using it was a crime. "

Arcee winced; obviously my mention of her death leader being a waste of good looks was a tasteless remark. She shook her petite, lovely helm. "You're right; we have relied on Ratchet too much. He doesn't have a military rank, but he was always like a second in command. Magnus just isn't the same. I mean, he's a great commander and all, but he…"

She was biting her lip plates. Poor little femme, she was so loyal as to not dare to voice out Ultra Magnus' deficiencies.

"He is cold, distant, peremptory, and a total scrap in the personal relationships? Maybe he needs a good frag, and I mean it. Ratchet is less frigid and he is true to his trade and profession. And, for what I have seen, his cantankerousness is mostly pretense. You know, I have caught him smiling at Bee and Smokey's shenanigans. He is very subtle about it, but I'm a medic, and medics have a good eye for such seemingly minor details."

Arcee giggled, and then caught herself. Though, a little curve in her pretty lip plates was still in place. "He'll be fine, then." She moved her helm towards the recharging frame. "I'll tell the others to come see you if they need repairs. Thank you for taking care of him."

I was astonished to hear real gratitude in her voice. "You're welcome. But, it's my job, and I am selfish enough to know I need him fully functional to attend to all your petty business."

"By the way, how did you get him to lower his guard?"

"It's a professional secret." I lied. Though, my way of surprising him had in fact surprised me. Kissing the grumpy old medic had elicited some sensations in me that felt too much like desire.

* * *

 

 

When the good doctor woke up the next solar-cycle, Bulkhead and Wheeljack had to prevent him from eviscerating me.

"Unhand me, I will teach him some manners! You can't sedate a mech without his permission!" Of course, he was not going to mention my method of catching him off guard. Probably he felt a little too stupid for being caught with his proverbial "pants down."

"As if you had never dosed a hard-headed mech against his will!" I actually had not proof of my words, but I knew that, even though such a practice was unethical, not a single medic could allege they hadn't done it in cases when the patient was not so patient.

"Come on, Sunshine, Knockout had no other way to make you recharge." Wheeljack sounded very amused by the situation.

"Don't call me Sunshine! My name is Ratchet!" Was he loud or what? Though, I liked loud ones. Well, not yelling at me, but because of my performance, especially if they were begging.

All of a sudden, an alarm sounded. And not just any alarm, this was specifically the one meant to alert us of a spacecraft entering Cybertron's atmosphere. We all froze. Since the Nemesis was harbored and Magnus' ship was in the hangar, that only could mean…

_"There is a large spacecraft entering orbit. They're asking for permission to land."_ Bumblebee's voice in the public comm. line sounded totally exultant.

The effect it had on all of us was immediate. We stampeded to the communications room. As we tried to enter, all at the same time, we inevitably got stuck in the door. It was comical to say the least, Ratchet and I squashed in between the other two larger mechs, front to front.

"GET OFF ME!" Ratchet was particularly upset, given that any time Bulkhead or Wheeljack tried to get free, our chest and ventral plates rubbed together.

"People!" exclaimed from the corridor Smokescreen's voice.

Abruptly we fell forward; evidently the Rookie had used the phase shifter device to make Bulkhead pass through the wall.

It seemed all had received the message, because in no time we were crammed in the communications room, looking expectant at the screen.

As it had to be, Ultra Magnus moved forward and gestured to Bee to proceed. The latter activated the visuals and we were presented with the face of a femme.

_"Hello, Autobots' comm. center, this is Magnaria, capitan of the Dauntless."_ Hum, that femme was a beautiful one. I'd heard her name before, but I'd never actually seen her.

"It's her, I can't believe it!" Ratchet whispered. He obviously knew her.

_"We received your communication. I want confirmation from the leader of the Autobots of the end of war, and ask for permission to land."_

"I am the leader of Autobots and I confirm the war is over." Magnus declared.

_"I requested to talk to the real leader. Where is Optimus Prime? If he is not there, I will talk with the medical officer, Ratchet, the second in command."_

I stifled the laughter that was so indiscreetly trying to erupt. I was not the only one, and Wheeljack didn't even try to suppress his guffaw. Magnus seemed to be glued to his spot with a look of shock and embarrassment on his face plates.

"Ratchet, you talk to that femme." Magnus dared to utter through his clenched dental plates.

The good doctor was bewildered, but did as commanded.

"Magnaria, it's good to see you. As Commander Magnus said, the war is indeed over. Optimus Prime's spark has been extinguished and he is now one with the AllSpark."

_"I see. I'm sorry, he was a good mech, good to the core I dare say. That leaves you in control, Ratchet, old friend. May we land? My people are eager to see the newly revitalized Cybertron, and there are dozens of sparklings and younglings that want to know their Sires' and Carriers' planet."_

"Sparklings? But, without the AllSpark…"

I too was dubious of this statement. New life was impossible without the AllSpark, and it had been inactive far from Cybertron for thousands of years. It had only just been opened a few solar cycles ago.

_"Ratchet, I have news for you; Welder's theories were true."_

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to all those who left Kudos and comments. You totally rock!


	6. Sparked?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A crowd of Cybertronians arriving should be good news to every member of Prime Team, but it seems one of them have serious problems with the past lives of the newcomers.
> 
> Starscream is finally awake, and Megatron finds out Primus has a black sense of humor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Sweetspark22, my beta-reader.
> 
> F.O.C. Warning: I try to give my own characters strong temperament, traits I don't have, so probably you will find glitches here and there.

 

Megatron made another trip to Kaon. He and Steve were going to collect the energon from the ex-gladiator's vault.

_"Sir, are you sure we could not go by ground bridge?"_

_"We could, but the ground bridge expends more energon than flight. Besides, I needed to stretch my wings. Believe it or not, I was not built a flyer, but I have learned to love this alt form."_

_"Yours is a becoming form, sir."_  Steve's stated with a tone of sincerity in his voice.

 _"Really? I hope you won't dare to say that to me when Starscream wakes up, he could be jealous."_  Megatron jeered. He was certain Steve was very fond of the seeker. The ex-warlord had carefully watched the recovery of Starscream. But, not even he had been as worried and concerned as Steve.

 _"I don't know what you mean, Sir."_  Voice that feigned nonchalance.

_"Please, do not play the innocent, Steve. I know you are more than concerned, you are helm over heel-struts for him."_

_"Am I that obvious?"_

_"Yes, and I have noticed some scratches on you. You keep them the way a true gladiator keeps battle scars. Your brothers have tried to buff them off, but you have not. I can recognize Starscream's claw and little fist marks, and yours are surely the result of his mistreatment… or maybe his caresses?"_

'Caresses,' Steve sighed. How he had longed for Starscream's gentle touch! But, the only contact between them had been the harsh blows and awfully stinging cuts from the seeker's spindly, needle-like talons. As it was, Steve kept them as mementos of his "attentions."

 _"I fear they are not caresses. Am I wrong?"_  Megatron pushed.

 _"No, sir. They are not caresses."_ Steve whispered.

Megatron cared for the vehicon; he had a good spark, and he was different from his brothers. His loyalty didn't come from directives or protocols, his was spark deep. The ex-warlord didn't want to see such a mech hurt.

He knew Starscream well enough to recognize his pride and edgy sides. The seeker had been a noble from Vos, the core ideals of the war not his main concern. Unbeknownst to the seeker, it was well known throughout both factions that his only interest in the conflict had been power. Megatron had rejected his sexual advances knowing very well they were not born from love or lust. No, the seeker wanted supremacy over the Decepticons, even if he had to mate the leader to have any form of control over them.

_"I warn you, Steve, Starscream is a beautiful seeker and surely has some good traits that go beyond his looks… but he is not inclined to care for others. Even if he recovers, I doubt he could change."_

_"You changed, sir."_

Megatron had not expected that. He was amused by the clever reply. _"I did, didn't I? Yes, if I, your fearless, ruthless, merciless ex-leader changed, there may very well be some hope for our seeker."_

*****

The "Dauntless" was still in orbit, as I had asked the captain to wait until we finished some details to ensure their safe landing. Once our conversation was finished, I closed the comm. link.

To my surprise, I turned only to be face to face with Magnus, his faceplates darkened in an expression of extreme displeasure.

"We cannot let them land, Ratchet! Those lowsparked, inbred riff-raff are not the expatriate ones we expected. They left Cybertron even before the Great Exodus." Magnus exploded, something unexpected.

The display made me wince in disapproval, and obviously I was not the only one. I felt revulsion at the uttering of such expletives used against the exiled cybertronians from the "Dauntless," especially the "lowsparked" one.

"Magnus, I never thought I would ever hear such loathsome words from an Autobot. Swear if it pleases you, but never, ever repeat those words of hate against our own kind." I felt my faceplates heating in anger. I must confess, I used a thunderous voice I had not put into practice since my years in the medical academy.

"But, they are the debauched of our society. For Primus's sake, the so called "Dauntless" was an ancient ship that had been turned into a bordello. People who lived there were but prostitutes and pleasure drones, probably some of their licentious clients were there when they flew away. Do we want that kind of people among us?"

"First, despite their past lives or allegiance, Optimus would have let them land and welcomed them with open arms."

Magnus scowled; clearly he remembered quite well Optimus's beliefs and thus the code of the Autobots. We all had sworn to defend such code and system of belief.

"Second, the conflict that led to the war and finally the desolation of Cybertron was the unfair differences between the castes. The whole caste system was ruled by few, all of them from the supposed "Higher Castes." That system had turned into a monstrosity, in which the lower classes were oppressed to sustain the luxury of the ones that called themselves highsparked. How could we point our digits to those who were forced by that decadent society to sell their bodies to bring energon to their tanks?"

I saw the other Autobots, including that insufferable ex-Con, nodding in agreement.

Though, Magnus was fuming, no doubt.

"Third, and the vital data here, I was designated second in command long ago when the war first started, and Optimus Prime never said otherwise! So, I say they land and that is final!" Maybe my vocalizer suffered for it, by I dared to shout that last sentence as an order.

Magnus recoiled, went rigid as a column and then said "Yes, sir."

That was priceless.

*****

The "Dauntless" was a very impressive starship. Its black fuselage gleamed under the sun of Cybertron. There was no chrome there, but pure titanium and steel. It was a battleship from the prow to the stern. The heavy armor, fusion cannons lining both port and starboard, and deflective shield generators in the top and bottom of the spacecraft screamed "Don't mess with me!"

How had they turned the old bordello-ship into that? It escapes my wildest dreams. And I have wild ones indeed, no matter my composed exterior. Yet, there it was, the imposing ship landing on a barren clearing some miles away from our operations base.

As Magnaria had requested, I was the one she wanted to talk to, so I was in front of the convoy - reception committee, followed close by Wheeljack and Bulkhead. Arcee, Bumblebee, Smokescreen, and Knockout were at the rear. And, last but not least, Ultra Magnus, who was as still and silent as a monolith.

Magnaria had been speaking the truth; once the "Dauntless" landed, a crowd of mechs and femmes descended from the spacecraft. I confess, the sight of the little ones were one of wonder and happiness for me. If only Optimus could be with us. If only he could see the ones that would inherit our renewed planet.

The femme that had saved them all from the destruction of Cybertron led the group.

She strode toward us, the entirety of Team Prime, and with a big smile, crouched to surround me with her arms. I had forgotten how tall she was. She was almost as tall as Optimus, and a little bulky for a femme. Nonetheless, she was beautiful.

"Ratchet, my friend, it's so good to see you in one piece." Yes, she was too effusive for my frame; enduring such a tight hug was not easy.

"Femme, please, you are crushing my spinal struts!" I choked out, only half joking.

"Sorry, Ratchet." She left my side and went to say hello to the others. "I imagine most of you don't know me. You know, I was not so popular when I lived here." Primus, there is no respect for the elders! All the males, minus Magnus, were evidently feeding off her admittedly voluptuous physique.

"Obviously, a femme living in a bordello ought to be unpopular among decent mechs."

"What the frag, Magnus?!" I could not stop my sudden outburst and the enormity of my swearing.

"Well, it's nice to see your immaculate vocabulary has not changed, Ratchet. And as for your subordinate, a lady would not lower herself to reacting with violence. Of course, I've never been considered as a lady…"

To our horror, one of Magnaria's spindly servos changed into a whirring circular saw and the other a long dissection knife.

"Magnaria, please, allow me. We don't need a confrontation. Besides, we need Magnus's head in its place." I vented a sigh of relief when the femme refrained from her homicidal intentions and changed her medical tools into her servos.

"For our friendship, Ratchet, only for that I won't gut him." She kept her chin high.

"Commander Ultra Magnus, return to the base. Bulkhead, please escort and guide him to his room, where he is confined until further orders."

"Yes, s-sir!" Bulkhead answered with an evident stutter.

Magnus didn't utter a single word as he transformed and retreated. Bulkhead rolled to his side. From the low rumble of Magnus' engines, I could tell he was furious.

"Well, Ratchet, could you show us around?" Her cheerfulness had returned. She was as I remembered her, quick to anger at offense yet easy to calm with reason and good manners.

"Yes, I, hmm... Maybe the new clinic we are building?" I offered. She was a medic, so that would probably be to her liking. And truth to be told, it wouldn't harm checking the newcomers for any kind of illness they could be carrying. After so long in the space, without a proper hospital…

"Yes, I want to see if you need some equipment. We can spare some from the onboard med-bay. Later, we could see the reconstructions you are no doubt conducting. I have some strong mechs and femmes that are eager to assist in the rehabilitation of the planet. Lead us."

I was at a loss for words. Med-bay? Spare equipment? "This way." I could get out as we transformed.

"You heard the doctor, people. Seekers, follow me. Grounders, on the road."

We watched in surprise as Magnaria and at least a dozen mechs and femmes jumped into the air and transformed into cybertronians jets. The rest transformed into cybertronian grounders. Even the children had alt-modes, and so they transformed as well.

 _"She is a fine lady. I like her."_  Knockout had the nerve to say to me through his comm. link.

_"Keep your servos away from her, she is bonded. And we still have a pending conversation; don't think I've forgotten your unethical behavior."_

_"I regret nothing. My unethical move has you on your four wheels right now, not to mention my other unethical move managed make your old circuitry rev up to life."_

He had no respect for his elders! But, in that moment, I remembered what his impulsive action had elicited in me. My frame had seen better days, no doubt, but I still had urges and a yearning for touch that had been neglected since the start of war. That single kiss, from such a mech, younger and stronger than me, gorgeous in frame and visage, relaxed and flirtatious like no other, sent tingling static up my spinal struts.

 _"You have a glitch in your comm. link, Ratchet?_ " Knockout was saying when I came back from my musings. _"I asked who is the lucky spawn of a wretch to bond with such a femme? Do I know him or her?"_

Shame on me for going as far as to lose touch with my surroundings, it had been only a stupid, single kiss!

_"Yes, you know him. He was your fearless, psychotic, homicidal, leader."_

_"Megatron?!"_

_"Did you have another fearless, psychotic, homicidal leader?"_

_"No, but she and he... I don't get it. Well, maybe it is the size. I mean, while he was in stasis, I had to look over the magnitude of his equipment. That thing could match a Predacon's!"_

_"I could have lived the rest of my life oblivious to that fact. You are shameless!"_

_"Why, thank you!"_

No respect at all!

******

They were expectant.

Shockwave servos had been dancing over the controls of the stasis unit for about half-groon. The final phase of Starscream's recovery had ended and it was time to awaken him.

"Who will give him the news about his newfound asexuality?" Megatron inquired, although it was a rhetorical question. 

"You are the closest one to him, Megatron. I believe it only logical…"

"Go figure, I always end up with the horrid part of the task. If he goes into hysterics and tries to lash into me with his ridiculous claws, I will defend myself, and with this new strength I could turn him into scrap. And if he sobs I'm most definitely not the type to comfort him."

"You will do fine, sir." Steve reassured Megatron.

The large mech vented a sigh and tried to relax as much as possible. He had felt strange as of late. Something that was like a little, echoing glitch in his processor had him mystified. It was mainly related to his restored memories. He usually had a recall from his point of view, then, all of a sudden, he was looking at himself, as if he was in the body of Orion Pax. It had happened before, but it was just an effect of a fresh spark-merging, when the memories, feelings, and even basic coding were entangled.

The basic coding had the worst effect. He had suffered a rather embarrassing case of obsessive-compulsive disorder after his bond with Orion Pax. When the effects had passed, he discovered he had catalogued his little collection of pads, the energon stash was in order from oldest to newest and from highest grade to lowest grade. Magnaria had passed him some strange craving for sweetened treats made from energon, and a swinging gait in his hips when he walked that forced him stay locked up until it passed.

Why now? Maybe it was due to the unlocked memories still fixing in his processor.

"Well, it is done." Shockwave announced.

Starscream was disconnected from the probes and cables. His frame was regaining stability klik by klik. Suddenly, his optics came online, a dull tint of pink, then they started to flicker into a brilliant red.

"Well, it seems I still am in the Well, there are three angels before me." He smiled, looking in enchantment at the trine of vehicons. Then his optics gazed upon Megatron. "No, I am in the Pit." He scowled darkly.

"Welcome, Starscream, and this is not the Well, nor is it the Pit. You still walk among the living. Though, we could arrange that." Megatron's voice lacked the menacing quality, though it was full with distaste. 'Why is Starscream always this caustic?'

All of a sudden, Megatron felt as if his spark had stopped pulsing. Then, just as quickly, as if its pulsing had escalated from nothing to double his normal rate. He pressed his servo against his chestplate, just over the place where his spark chamber was. His optics went offline and he fell to the floor, collapsed into power-down.

Shockwave hurried to his side. He had seen the gesture and, without hesitation, inserted his digits into Megatron's chest seams and pressed softly, making the spark chamber open. He examined the ex-warlord's spark, still tainted with the purple hue of dark energon. But, somehow the purple was fading in parts, it looked as if the spark was reverting to its original state of being. What really called his attention, however, was another spark, albeit smaller, and as bright as a newspark, attached to Megatron's.

Megatron onlined his optics abruptly. "She is here, Magnaria, she is on Cybertron. I felt her in my…" He looked at his chest and saw his sparkchamber open "What in the Pit is that little spark doing attached to mine?"

"Congratulations, Lord Megatron. It seems you are sparked." Shockwave intoned in his monotonic voice.

"Well, you were busy while I was in stasis." Starscream joined to the group, looking in wonder at the pulsing, brilliant, little spark.

TBC

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My gratitude to all the ones that read, leave kudos and comment, I love you people.


	7. So close to your spark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since my current beta-reader is busy with her studies, this chapter was betaed by Libbyluvs, kudos for her.

Shockwave insisted that he examine Megatron further to be sure of what happened and why he off-lined like that.

 

The large mech, shocked as he was by the news, let himself be guided to the examination berth and lay down without further protest, his spark chamber still open.

 

“You must leave so I can proceed with the examination, Steve. Please escort Starscream to the room you arranged for him.” Shockwave said to the vehicon.

 

“This way commander, please.” Steve said courteously, trying hard to hide the glee that was burning inside him by the sight of the seeker on his pedes again.

 

Starscream felt suddenly let out of whatever was going on, but from personal experience he knew Megatron was not easy going with medical examinations or anything related to someone touching him. Ignorant of the changes of late in the ex-warlord’s attitude, the seeker let himself be guided out of the lab by the vehicon, he didn’t want to be target of one of the usual fits of bad-mood from Megatron.

 

* * *

 

 

“It seems your spark is in good condition, as well as the sparkling’s. ”Shockwave read aloud the results of the extensive scan he had run on Megatron’s frame.

 

“Shockwave this is not a sparkling, it has to be a mistake. I haven’t interfaced since…well it’s been quite a while.” Megatron’s face was blue with embarrassment.

 

“I need to know how much time since your last interface or sparkmerge,to discard my previous assertion, because in fact it looks like you are carrying.”

 

“It’s been millions of years, since before the final battle in Cybertron.” Megatron whispered.

 

Shockwave didn’t comment about this statement. Truth to be told, he was not too surprised. He knew Megatron was sparkbonded, and that kind of union usually led a mech into celibacy when the mech’s bonded was far away. It was not a physiological effect, but a psychological one. Moreover, Megatron had a fixed lust for war that erased any other craving. It was not rare to see him going for solar-cycles without proper sustenance or recharge, so other basic needs were not so pressing to him. Though, he had noticed a change in mood of late…

 

“Megatron, I need you to be honest. The vehicons and you…”

 

“No! I barely know them, Shockwave, seriously, I’m not that kind of mech.  If I say I haven’t fragged in the last millions of years I mean it!” He was fuming with indignation. How dared this one-optic freak think he would indulge in sexual activities so trivially; he was not born a seeker, inclined to mate with anything that moved.

 

Honestly, he even turned around and ran away when he found out the resident trine involved in frantic interface in the wash racks. He knew that “good manners” among seekers meant including whomever caught them in the act. And by Primus, he didn’t want to be “included”, mainly because he would most likely accept. He didn’t trust himself that much.

 

“Then, you want me to remove the “intruding” spark?” Shockwave said without a hint of emotion in his voice. He was already contemplating the experiments he could make of what he considered was a kind of parasite.

 

“Remove it? Primus, no! It’s a spark, not a cyber-tick.” Megatron was scandalized. Wait! He was scandalized?  Since when did he stop to think about another’s life, when his was probably at the proverbial stake? He was not a ruthless warlord anymore, but he was not Optimus Prime either: prone to self-sacrifice. After all it was not even a life, but a disembodied spark, just a spark without a frame…he froze, then looked at the white little light, brilliant and pure in disbelief. Could it be?

 

He dimmed his optics, focusing his processor, and bringing up miner protocols. Those were not common routines, but the ones ingrained deeply in his positronic cortex at his creation. Reading energy signatures and recognizing the patterns of them was a valuable skill to have when mining. In enclosed places, sometimes without light; he could know where the veins of energon ran stronger, within other minerals. It was helpful to discern the readings of other miner’s, location, and their personal mark, that is as unique as the spark that emitted it.  It was also the way to know if there were any living miners after a cave in.  

 

He on-lined his optics again and “read” his spark. He could feel what was left of his original one, somehow it had ‘amassed’ some strength over the awful signature of the dark-energon tarnish. Then, he put his attention in the little bright spark attached to his. He felt it and knew at once that was not a sparkling, but a fully-grown spark, diminished by the lack of a frame, just waiting to have a protoform. He knew all too well that signature. That was the source of his echoing glitch, the source of his sudden self-sacrificing impulses.

 

“Primus pounding Unicron in the aft! This is Orion Pax’s spark!” He exclaimed, and felt somehow disturbed by his use of the coarse blasphemy.  Since when did he become flustered by profanity? He didn’t need further proof; that this was the spark of his passed beloved, the prudish and correct Orion Pax.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve led Starscream to one of the spare rooms.

 

“The berth is comfortable, Commander, and we prepared this room with a private wash rack. I think you may need some energon, so I will bring you…”

 

“No, soldier, I don’t need energon. I feel my tanks are full, I belive I was well fueled while in stasis.”

 

Starscream sat on the berth.  He felt no pain or incommodity. Was he not supposed to feel at least sore or sensitive? He widened his eyes in realization; his sensations in his interface array were always present, even when seated, but now, there were nothing, almost as if…     

 

“The predacons, they hurt me really bad. But, I don’t feel pain in my innards, or my interface port, nor my cable.” He used the scientific designations for his valve and spike, these being the common terms to call the parts of the interface array. “How bad are they?”

 

Steve didn’t dare say a word, though his expression was really revealing.

 

“That bad, huh?” he felt his spark sinking. “At least they did not sparked me up. There is nothing left then?” A quiet whisper left his lip plates.

 

“Sir, I’m not the right one to inform you about it.” Steve felt as if he was going to start crying.

 

“You are better for the task than Megatron or Shockwave, Steve.”

 

The vehicon’s optics went wide with surprise. “Sir, how?”

 

“Your designation? Well, Shockwave called you that, and I remember you from the Nemesis.  I can recognize my mark on you.” Starscream looked intently at one of Steve’s scars, an especially big one that crossed the plates of his midsection. “I did that to you when you tripped over your own pedes and spilled a cube of energon all over me. And that dent on your left shoulder plate, I grabbed you there while you carried me into med-bay, after one of the beatings of our glitched ex-master. That was the time I asked for your designation, while I was off-lining. To be honest, Steve, I had planned to snuff your spark once I was better, so you wouldn’t spread any rumors of my weakness.”

 

“Sir, I wouldn’t, never ever! Plus, it was not weakness; Megatron is far bigger and more violent than any other mech. The Prime always had problems when fighting him, even though they were almost the same size.”

 

“I suppose you are right, but the others would never understand it.” He let go a resigned ex-vent. “I presume you don’t have a mirror.”

 

“As a matter of fact, there is one in that drawer.”  Steve signaled the single drawer that was next to the berth.

 

Starscream opened it, and found there the basic things any mech could need. Among solvents bottles, washcloths, and a little portable buffer, he found a small mirror.

 

He gave it to Steve. Then, pulled his frame to the side of the berth, so his hips were in the air and opened his legs. He supported his weight with his servos flat on the berth. “Kneel and place it in front of my interface array, angle it so I can watch. I need to look at the extent of the damage.”

 

“B…but, I…I don’t recommend…” Steve stuttered.

 

“Now!” The seeker ordered.

 

The vehicon did as he was commanded, biting his lip plates in anguish.

 

Starscream braced himself and let the covers of his interface array click open.

 

He gasped, shrieked out in horror and promptly off-lined.

 

* * *

 

 

“We need to contact the Autobots,immediately! Magnaria is on Cybertron, I can feel her. She must be with the ‘bots right now, since they are the ones who rule the planet.” Megatron had closed his spark chamber, and was on his feet again, the previous sensation of shock had disappeared, replaced by a sudden surge of determination.

 

“Do you still think she could heal Starscream?”

 

“I’m almost sure, and she could probably help me with my...little problem too.” The ex-warlord gestured to his chest.

 

“But, after all those years in exile, it’s only logical to suppose that they don’t have the best medical equipment, not to mention the minerals and nanites needed to create a protoform for the spark, let alone regenerate any kind of organ.  They left the planet in a wrecked ship that served as bordello for some millennium. Somehow, they patched it up and ran away in that bucket of rust.”

 

Megatron smirked, a glint of mischief in his red optics. “You don’t know her as I do, Shockwave. The vessel she commanded had been changed from the inside out. You didn’t see it when it finally left.  Magnaria and her carrier before her had managed to turn that “bucket of rust” into the most amazing lethal battle ship I have ever seen.  It could have turned the tables of the war in our favor if we could have accessed its weaponry. Not to mention all the equipment they carried, and the many different professionals that left with them. They were brilliant engineers, scientists of all kind, and medics that were demoted by the High Council because of their ideas, caste, or allegiances. ”

 

“Then, why did you let her leave with such a formidable spacecraft?”

 

“Firstly, the Dauntless‘ main objective was not to wage war. It was built to help the crew and passengers defend themselves from any menaces outside of Cybertron, and to discourage the intentions of stopping them from leaving the planet. Second, any approach towards it with ill purpose could be heavily put off by a blast from one of his fusion cannons. Third, and probably the most important reason, I love Magnaria, that adorable minx, to the last tendril of my spark.”

 

An excruciating scream echoed through the entire facility, making the two mechs jump in alarm.

 

“That was Starscream!, Primus, I had forgotten about him!” Megatron exclaimed.  He ran, followed closely by Shockwave, towards the wing where the seeker’s room was located.  

 

When they entered the chamber they found Starcream off-lined on the berth, his interface panel open and Steve on his kneels with a look of horror in his face, a mirror broken on the floor.

 

“What in the Pit happened?” Megatron shouted at the vehicon.

 

Shockwave moved to the berth, closed Starscream’s interface panel, and examined the seeker. “He is out, but other than that, he is fine.”

 

“I didn’t know…he asked me to…I couldn’t refuse. He saw the damage, the ruined and scarred tissue, the void, the destroyed calipers. Oh, Primus! What have I done?” Steve’s coolant tears unleashed.

 

“That’s it! , Shockwave, arrange a call to the Autobot’s now!”

 

* * *

 

  _Knockout’s point of view_

  
 

We were introduced to Magnaria and the other newcomers by Ratchet. I never expected they would react without animosity towards me when he informed them that I was a former Decepticon. These people, “The Fugitives”, as they called themselves, were very forgiving and it seemed as easy going as they come.

Just after, we lead the femme to our new clinic.  She was followed by some mechs that happened to be engineers, and a couple of light built femmes that were nurses, or patient attendants, as Magnaria said.

“The building is almost finished. We will move in some equipment from the Nemesis and some others we left on Earth.  Of course, the beginnings will be slow and difficult, but we can manage with the basics.” Ratchet sounded hopeful, yet I knew better.

During the war I had quite a decent med-bay, onboard the Nemesis.  Poor Ratchet had to repair and even make his own medical equipment from metal scraps, most of them from old, primitive human technology. Now, with the first arrival of exiled ones, and the imminent flow of Cybertronians that will surely follow, our humble clinic will not be enough. And having only two attending medics for hundreds of patients is simply not sufficient enough care.

“Well, I think I can help with that. What do you think Galatea?” Magnaria asked to one of the nurses.

“Sure, here we have the inventory of the equipment and provisions we can donate.” The thin femme handed a pad to Ratchet.

Primus, he looked so astonished I thought he was going to off-line then and there. He gave me the pad and I could understand why. That was enough to completely furnish two whole clinics more and even over fill all the supplies cabinets And that was just skimming the first two pages! They even offered medicines, not the makeshift tampered energon we usually use, but different medicinal substances that I had not seen since after the war; some of them I had never heard of at all.

“Magnaria, there must be an error, can you spare everything on the list?” Ratchet asked, he had just voiced my doubt as well.

The large femme moved to look at the data and nodded. “Yes, and no.  Since we are going to move to Cybertron, I just reduced our inboard hospital.  The Dauntless will head to other colonies, to pick up the people who want to come back to Cybertron, but first it will travel to our new home-planet. Once there, they will have the medical equipment, supplies, and everything else replaced. From here to Kaon it will suffice with a basic med-bay and a couple of medics.”

“Kaon?” I was confused by that name.

“Yes, we named our planet Kaon.  You know, most of us lived in Kaon on this planet, so why not name a planet the likes of our former home?” She grinned and winked an optic.

Unicron be damned! That femme had a disarming smile, and the winking, Primus! She truly could turn a mech into a melted puddle of circuits with the impishness of it. To be honest, I was never too much into femmes, always wanted a little more bulk in my berth-partners, I loved to be hugged hard.  But, that medic had the best of two worlds, gracility and strength.

While she talked I considered that she could easily frag someone like me through the berth, maybe even someone as big as Ultra Magnus. I suddenly remembered she was bonded with Megatron and an image of my ruthless ex-leader being fragged from behind by Magnaria, face first on the berth, passed through my processor. I could do nothing to suppress a shudder of dislike. How that belle sparkbonded with the terror of Kaon, that was a mystery to me.

 

“Well, let me send a comm. to my second so he can make the arrangements. Hardbuilder, please prepare, you and your team have a task. The installation and correct configuration of the equipment will be a suitable work for your workmates and you.” Magnaria said to the tallest of the engineers.

“Yes, Captain. We would be delighted to.” The mech responded, and to my surprise he looked more than happy.

 

“Then, it’s settled.  Of course, you and Knockout are welcome to supervise their work. It’s your clinic, after all. Galatea and Minerva can help you as well, they are the finest at organizing the full stock of medical supplies.”

 

The two nurses, nodded courteously.

 

I liked Magnaria more with every passing klick.  

 

“You have to explain to me how you happen to have so many resources at your disposal, I am quite mystified.”

 

Ratchet can be such a spoil-sport, he always tries to look the proverbial “gift horse” in the mouth.

 

“Oh, it’s a long story, probably while we have some refuel and rest I could explain. Though, I have to ask you to gather your team back together, and help with setting up a place to share the energon we prepared for this event.”

 

“What event?”

 

“Our reunion, of course, it’s been millions of years since Cybertronians joined in peace to share a feast.”

 

She touched her audial, obviously talking to a member of her crew. “Commander Swiftwing, please bring along the rest of the crew to my coordinates, and bring with you that special stock of energon we brought.  Be quick, we are starving here.”

 

I was already sighing in pleasure. A feast! After working so hard for so long, that sounded amazing to have a moment of relaxation and fun.  Not only do I get to look at the flirty, beautiful medic, but at some of the mechs that accompanied her. The big one was an eye opener and with some luck I could get some of the adult entertainment I’d been lacking recently.  

 

Living with the autobots was boring in the matters of berth recreation, they were always so prudish.

 

The two younger ones were in love, obviously, but according to my records they had not gone beyond some “pats on the back-plates”.  The sexual tension could be felt miles away, and I am sure they are going to fritz circuitry or blow a gasket for restraining themselves this far.

 

Arcee ogled Ultra Magnus with clear desire, but the big oaf was so busy mimicking a column that he paid no attention to her.

 

The only ones who had been interfacing quite regularly were the wreckers, and help me Primus, I always try hard not to think of how they…well, that’s not my business. I only had to repair a couple of dents on the inner plates of Wheeljack’s thighs from time to time and keep my vocalizer silent.

 

Let’s not forget to mention the vehicons, they always jump one another like seekers in heat. Although easy to frag, for me it had lost its appeal.  Megatron’s threatening warnings about leaving the armada members alone had been good part of the luster fragging the vehicons have.

 

And, as for my dear colleague, Ratchet, he was too uptight most of the time, always trying to fill up the enormous void left by Prime. Though I keep remembering the kiss, the single kiss I used to catch him with his guard down. He felt totally acquiescent in my arms, as if he had been expecting it, as if he was welcoming it. And by the Pit, it took all my will to not get carried away by the warmth of his strong body, the burning heat of his lip plates. ‘Knockout, it’s the rust bucket you are thinking about’ I had to admonish myself inwardly.  I decided it was my lack of interface conquests talking.

 

The abrupt entering of Bumblebee broke my musing.  “Ratchet, we have an incoming transmission from the Decepticons.  Megatron is asking us for the right of par..l., parllo.., par…” He stuttered trying to say a word that obviously was not in his vocabulary.  

 

“Would it be “parley” my dear?” Magnaria offered, smiling seductively at Bee.

 

Well it was amusing to see the young warrior turning blue in the face-plates.

 

“Yes, that.” He mustered amid his obvious embarrassment.

 

“How becoming of the Terror of Kaon’s Pits, to use buccaneer’s slang.” She tilted her helm and grinned.

 

“How inopportune of him, I must say!” exclaimed Ratchet, he had not been looking forward to this moment, but we all knew it would happen. Though, happening just now, when we were attending our guests was indeed not positive.

 

“He said he wants to talk to his bonded , Ratchet. He said this lady is his sparkbonded.” Bee was still ashamed, but his voice was tinted with incredulity. Obviously the notion of Megatron bonded for life with the femme-medic was not comforting to Bee.

 

“Oh, Primus, how endearing! Can I talk to him, Ratchet? I have a couple of things to say to that fragging glitch spawn of the Pits.” She was smiling, but one could not mistake the dangerous edge in her words and her demeanor.

 

Bee winced at the blasphemies coming from the blue-painted lip plates of the femme.

 

“How did he know you are here?”

 

She touched her chest, where the metal plating covered her spark-chamber. “He knew it the moment I landed, as I knew he was still alive and on Cybertron when my pedes first hit the ground. Ratchet, the sparkbond is both a blessing and a curse.”

 

* * *

>  

 

“Magnaria, my love!”

 

By the Pit, hearing Megatron utter such words, with a sweet smile on his horrid face plates, his optics wistful, and his brow not scowling but incredibly softened, was a vision from a nightmare.  

 

Obviously I was not the only one with such an impression, the whole of Prime’s team (minus Magnus, who was still locked in his room) were looking at the screen with equal expressions of astonished disgust.  

 

“Hello, Megatron, dear, how are you faring? You know I am very well now, but I want to know what in the Pit you did to your spark some years ago.  Don’t dare to lie to me, because whatever it was, put me in stasis for a whole deca-cycle.”

 

Wow, what a commanding tone she had, soft but menacing, as the purr of one of those big cats form Earth; panthers I think they called them. I certainly was starting to understand which one of them topped in that relationship.

 

“I…err. I apologize; I didn’t think the dark energon would…”

 

Was he, Megatron, the vicious, brutal ex-leader stuttering? I was so recording that!

 

“Dark Energon! For Primus’ sake, you used that filth on you! How dare you, you knew very well I was still alive and sentient of your spark. I got sick, and felt like scrap, then you were dead and alive again and…What the frag did you do to your frame?”

 

She was yelling. Not a screech like Starscream, but truly bellowing shouts.

 

“You are angry!”

 

“What a way to state the obvious. You big brute! What in the Pit do you want, spit it out!.”

 

And it was confirmed, she probably had the upper hand when fragging.

 

“One of my mechs, Starscream, is wounded and I need your help.  I know you are the heiress of Welder’s investigations. The nature of his injury is incapacitating and only a regeneration of…”

 

“Interface equipment, voice box or t-cog?” She asked.

 

“Ah, interface equipment, he was abused by three predacons, and was severely injured.”

 

We all gasped. Even Arcee, who held a hatred for the seeker that went far past obsession, muttered the word “raped” while her faceplates contorted in something very similar to regret.

 

“Predacons? The extinct monsters from Cybertron prehistory? Has Shockwave gone altogether mad? Let’s rephrase that, he is mad, but recreating those things goes beyond plain stupidity. ”

 

“How did you know the nature of Starscream’s wound and Shockwave being the responsible of the existence of the Predacons? Are you reading my mind?”

 

“There are only three possible parts of a mech that are irreplaceable, so I asked for those parts. And only Shockwave is capable of undertaking such abhorrent experiments.” She had not lost her temper, but she obviously was a responsible and caring medic, because she had collected herself enough by the notification of an injured mech.

 

“Ratchet, its your decision if we let them bring him here to be attended or if I see to his injuries in the med-bay of my ship.”

 

Well, that was not fair. Ratchet was confronted with a difficult decision. I was accepted, though I was still on trail, as well the vehicons, and if Starscream either came, or needed for help, surely he would be accepted…but Megatron.

 

“Megatron, come to our base, you and your people are welcome here, for as long as you want. The war is over, and we are not enemies anymore. We are all Cybertronians.”

 

I was in awe, he was just following Optimus’ code, the Autobot code, but in that moment, I saw the medic under a different light.  How many had died at Megatron’s hands? How many had needed to be attended by Ratchet? Hundreds, perhaps more.  But this mech has the quality to forgive on behalf of his ideals. How noble he looked in my optics. I may value a beautiful frame and a lustrous finish, but his spark gave him a beauty gleam that was better than any painting job or upgrade. In that second I knew I was doomed, for I felt my spark yearning for Ratchet.

 

“By the way, if you come right away you could refuel with us.” Ratched said at an astonished Megatron.

 

“I…don’t know what to say.”

 

He truly was out of words; gratitude was most likely not in his vocabulary.  For as long as I had known him he’d never shown he had that notion in his processor.

 

“The words you are looking for is “thank you”, Megatron, and be thankful Ratchet bears Optimus’ beliefs in his spark.” Magnarias voice was reproachful.  

 

“By the way, Maggie, I need you to look at something when I get there.” Megatron dared to add.

 

“Don’t call me Maggie, I hate it and you know it.  Yeah, I will take away that flamboyant plating from you, and if you let me I will buff off those scars from your face-plates as well.”

 

I laughed inwardly.  Those scars were easily reparable, but Megatron said they were valuable for being acquired in battle. Maybe the good Magnaria could do what he never let me.

 

“It is more on the order of this.” He opened his chest to show his spark.

 

Most of the ‘bots recoiled in disgust.  Obviously the old etiquette rule of never showing the spark was intact with them. As it was, only Magnaria and I looked intently at the display. And both looked at each other when we noticed another little spark was attached to Megatron’s.

 

“Okay, who was the fearless one who sparked you?”

 

TBC

 


	8. Three medics and a little spark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since my current beta-reader seems to be off-line, this chapter was betaed by Libbyluvs, kudos for her.

 

 

“Ratchet, I know it’s in everyone’s best interest to settle differences with the ‘cons, but inviting them to refuel with us is simply too rash. This is Megatron we are talking about, for Primus’ sake!”

Arcee was right, I’ve been acting too impulsive. Yet, I knew it was what Optimus would do.  I had known our leader long enough to understand he would welcome the ex-warlord with open arms the moment he called for peace.  

To be totally honest, Megatron had been the one to call the cease fire, and declare the Decepticons were no more. I was influenced by his act of surrender, even if he hadn’t actually admitted defeat.

“He is calling for help, Arcee; medical help for his injured fellow. I can’t deny them such help, it would go against the truce policies, the core of our beliefs, and it would be unethical from my point of view as a medic.” I was entering their coordinates in our ground bridge.

“Don’t worry, Arcee, I would be here, and Megatron would not dare to make a foul move in front of me. And if he does, I think we could overpower him easily.” Magnaria’s voice was firm and confident.

I had asked her to stay with us due to the Decepticon’s arrival.  I also believed Megatron wouldn’t have the nerve to act against us while his bonded was among our lines.

Though, I felt the tension growing in the members of my team, their EM fields were charged with hate and anger, a combination I had come to know throughout the millennia.  It was common to feel it before a battle.  Usual, as it was, it always unnerved me. The wave increased in its intensity when I finally activated the ground bridge.

I tensed up, at the view of Megatron. He was impressive, the upgrades to his frame added a good deal to the already menacing bearing of the ex-leader. Though, when I spotted the seeker being carried in his massive arms, my hesitation lessened.

I moved forward, and looked at the curled frame that was Starscream. The seeker’s body was limp like a broken puppet. His optics were off-lined. “Follow me; we can attend him better in the medical wing.”

Megatron nodded, and dared to glance towards Magnaria with pleading eyes.

She certainly was not going to forgive him so easily, the foul stare she gave him an obvious guarantee of it.  “Don’t even think I am done with you, big one. We’ve had a rather serious conversation pending for quite some time about the responsibilities one owes to their spark when bonded. Now let’s attend this little seeker.”

The femme said that with a sharp edge that rivaled her dissection blade; it sounded like a furious cyber-cat hissing. Then she turned her back at him and walked beside me.

I felt pity for Megatron.  I knew Magnaria well, and being on the receiving end of her temper was not enviable.

I heard the big stomping steps of the ex-warlord following us.  I should have winced, but his E.M. field was not menacing. In fact, it was especially warm. Strange as it sounds, it felt somehow familiar.

*************

Once they arrived to the medical wing Ratchet blushed.  The medical berths had seen better days, as well as the scanner and other tools.  He had never paid mind to that before, but now with Magnaria in the same room he felt ashamed of their poor resources.

Megatron carefully placed the seeker on one of the berths while he was telling the medics about the events that had led him to call for their help.

“He was attacked eleven cycles ago and you dared to call for help only now!” Ratchet shouted at Megatron.  He didn’t care that he was addressing the terror of Kaon, the Master of the Decepticons, and a violent warmonger as though he was admonishing a sparkling.  Megatron had put the life of a victim of rape in danger and, for the old medic that was just inexcusable.  

“I couldn’t bring him before because when I got notice of his injuries Shockwave had put him in stasis.  Besides, I doubted you would help. After all, Optimus is gone, and without him I thought you wouldn’t be eager to lend a hand to me or to any who had alliances with me.”

Ratchet felt hurt.  Did the ex-gladiator really think they would deny help to them in such dire situations? But, he suddenly remembered Arcee’s words, and the aura of hate that he’d felt from his fellow Autobots and had to admit to himself that Megatron was right when he assumed most of them wouldn’t aid an ex-decepticon, rather would blast him at first sight.

“Well, it took me a plain traitorous move against Starscream to acquire the status I have now, which is close to a criminal on parole.  Of course I will be on probation for an eternity, I’m afraid.  To gain the Autobot’s trust here, my dear ex-leader, you probably would have to do something as grandiose as,   - let’s see…bring back Optimus Prime from the Well?” Sarcasm was not missed in Knockout’s words.

Megatron opened his eyes in surprise.  He was trying to do exactly that…or sort of. He had to suppress his desire to laugh out loud. He continued his explanation. “When I felt Magnaria arriving at this planet I knew the chance for Starscream’s full recovery existed. He was on his pedes again, and his wounds had closed well enough, but somehow he found out the true extent of his injuries in a brusque way…and that’s when I decided to bring him here.”

“Right, then! First we have to find out what is wrong with him right now. As for your- ehem… problem, Megatron, lie down on that berth and wait while we run tests on Starscream.” Ratchet signaled to the other medical berth and after Megatron did as he was told the medic extended a room divider panel to guarantee a degree of privacy.

Starscream had not articulated a sound, moved his optics, or even fluttered a wing. Nothing.  “He is unresponsive, as if he’s not there.” Ratchet commented to Magnaria and Knockout, puzzled. He was familiar with shock, but usually patients in shock, kept some automatic reflexes.

“Poor thing, the psychological impact was very severe; probably the sudden excess of charge by the shock triggered the security breakers.” Magnaria slipped her servo behind the seeker’s helm and pushed two digits in the seam where skull plates inserted into the neck. “Aha! The breakers are switched off.”

“Switched off? Like at overload?” Knockout asked, and Ratchet winced in disapproval.

“Yes, a little, but without the good parts. Though, in overload the breakers only go down a notch or two, merely to prevent frizzled circuitry. As you surely know, the total switch-off only happens in very rare and dreadful experiences…or during a Pit of an intense frag.”

Knockout chuckled at the femmes’ words, remembering well a couple of times with Breakdown that surely matched the “intense” category. Ratchet cycled open his cerulean eyes and sputtered…recalling way more than a couple of times from his days as student.

“Then, what is your suggestion?” Ratchet asked. He was the older one, and more experienced. But, Magnaria’s mentor, Welder, had been a remarkable medic, scientist, and an innovative genius. Since she had been not only his apprentice, but his protégée, her knowledge should be superior to his.

“Well, I could just maneuver the breakers to switch-on. Though, in time they will do it on their own, once the deep root protocols determine the danger has passed. It will take maybe a solar-cycle or two. ”

“Why don’t you leave him like that?  While we examine his interface panel it’s better to keep him off-lined. He is more than skittish when it comes to his “jolly” bits. Last time I tried to do a routinely test the slagger nearly peeled off my paint job as soon as I said _“open for me”_ ” Knockout commented.

“It’s highly unethical to proceed with a checkup of such sorts without the consent of the patient. And I don’t blame Starscream for his reaction; I would blast on the spot whoever dared to say that to me.” Ratchet lectured.

“And that explains why you are carrying around those dangerous levels of static.  I would say you need a good frag, badly.”  The ex-decepticon’s voice hinted with lecherous intention.

Ratchet’s face-plates contorted in obvious anger and humiliation. Anger because his flashy associate’s words were nothing but true, and humiliation because his lacking of sexual activity was not by choice, but because he had not been asked by anybody since the start of the war. “I prefer to be in need than to be the whore of the entire Decepticon armada!” His rage made him shout venomously at Knockout.

“Gentlemech, please!  Let’s not forget we are in a medical facility and our professional code clearly says our patients are our priority. Our personal issues are not important here!”  Magnaria intervened with energy.

Ratchet and Knockout were startled by the sharp reprimand, and swiftly settled down to a degree.

“Well, now that I have your attention, I suppose maybe this time-since I will not touch him to do it-I think I can bend a little rule and run a test while he is off-line.” Magnaria grinned.

“How do you plan to do a checkup without touching him?” Ratchet was genuinely intrigued.

“Oh, well, a three-dimensional scan is easy to perform.” She opened her sub-space and took off an item that looked remarkably like human sunglasses. She put them on, the sides adhered to her helm with a swishing sound that clearly indicated a jack-port connection. A whole set of readings played before her optics.

“That can’t be a scanner!” Ratchet exclaimed.

 “Oh, but it is!” Magnaria smiled while she fixed her view on Starscream’s lower body plates. The glasses produced a blue beam of light that ran along the Seeker’s frame, from cockpit to pelvic area. “Primus, this is disturbing! Those predacons are still on the loose?” The femme whispered clearly anguished.

“Yes, I think they are. But they have their lair far away from us. They don’t represent a threat.” The older medic answered.

“Indeed? Check this up, Ratchet, and then tell me again that they are not a threat.” Magnaria opened a little panel on her wrist and a projection beam showed in the air a three-dimensional representation of what was left of Starscream’s interface equipment.

Ratchet and Knockout gasped.  

Knockout paled considerably, and taking the closer waste bin, he purged his tanks noisily. “By the Pit! That is gruesome!” Knockout said, voice shaky, and he diverted his optics from the projection.

Magnaria took the scan device away and looked with critical optics at the image. “This would be a delicate task indeed: total replacement of the port, regeneration of the sensory lines, and feeding tubes of the cables; a purge, adjustment, and alignment of the gestation chamber.  The seal of the chamber is broken, as well the anti-conception ring, so we have to replace them, too.”

“But, those kinds of procedures are non-existent.  Welder just theorized about them.” Ratchet sounded so sure about his assertion.

“He theorized about the possibility of kindling without the AllSpark to provide a spark.  Mind you, dear, there are about five generations of mechs and femmes that had been kindled far away from Cybertron and the Allspark. You already saw some of the youngest ones.”

“Besides, his theories were not just theory, he succeeded. When he published, he had strong suspicion that the medical bureau of the Council was corrupted, so he decided to declare his investigation’s results were only theories.  As you well know, he was stripped of his credibility, demoted from his rank in the medical community, and his works were eliminated from the records of Iacon. If he had showed proof, he probably would have been snuffed out.”

“So you can repair him?” Megatron’s voice boomed from the other berth.

“Of course I can. I only need a little sample of tissue and from there one of our medical engineers can regenerate a copy of the valve.  As for the energon feeding and connection lines, with a good dose of specific nanites and minerals, we can promote the re-growing. It will take some time, though, and a couple of surgeries to put everything in place, but he will be just fine. So, we can activate his breakers now, and give him the good news.” Magnaria stated.

“Oh, maybe let him sleep a little more, you see, we didn’t part in the best terms.” Knockout pleaded.

“Yeah, back-stabbing somebody is something that surely ruins the camaraderie.” Ratchet added.

“Well, then we can let him rest for now.  Maybe it’s for the best. Switching-on may be a little too sudden,  though, we have to monitor him.” Magnaria produced a couple of little devices from her subspace. They were chip-like cards. Carefully, she opened one of Starscream’s service ports, just in the middle of his chest plates, and inserted one of the cards there. Then she handed the other to Ratchet. “Insert it in one of your wrist ports, it will keep you informed of his vital signs and will alert you if there is some significant change.”

Ratchet did as he was told, really surprised such small things could be a monitoring system.

“So, I think we can assess Megatron’s “interesting situation” now.” The old medic said in a soft tone.

“For Primus’ sake, Ratchet, he is sparked, not infested with coding-lice!” Knockout said, rolling his optics.

***********************

Megatron’s point of view:

The three medics were looking at my open spark-chamber with awe painted on their face-plates. Knockout and Ratchet were obviously new to the experience, thus their similar expressions. But Magnaria had seen it before, since she had been a medic in Kaon, where most of the mechs were brought to being by interface and gestation inside a carrier. Then why the surprise?

Knockout watched closer, to my utter unease, that medic had a dark side that surely had passed unnoticed by the Autobots, but I was well aware of it. Though, it looked as if he was evaluating my situation with a seriousness that stunned me.

“Are they not supposed to be smaller? And the core’s light is not hazy, it is totally coalescent, like in…”

“Adult´s sparks. Primus, that is not a sparkling, it is a fully grown spark!” Ratchet cut off Knockout’s commentary.

“Moreover, Ratchet, that is not an ordinary spark. That one is Orion Pax’s spark.” Magnaria looked at me mystified. I had forgotten her sire was a miner and she had inherited the same basic protocols I had. Obviously she had read the spark signature, and she had known Optimus’ past embodiment as to recognize him.

“Orion Pax?! You mean Optimus!” Poor old Ratchet, his optics were alight with hope.

“Yes, minus the leadership Matrix of course.  I think it’s possible to extract it and place in a brand new protoform. With some luck it will develop into a version of himself before Primus decided to change him from the prissy mech he was into the stiff neck he became when he turned into a prime.”  Stiff neck? My lovely Magnaria was maybe as angry as I had been when Orion was “promoted” to Prime.  She used to say his essence was still the same, but it had been buried under a dogmatic load that would not permit him be himself anymore, let alone remember his past.

“I was joking when I said bringing Optimus Prime back from the Well would gain you forgiveness. How in the Pit did youdo it?” Knockout had changed from amazed to curious.

“I prayed to Primus, and it seems the slagger actually listened to me.  Though, I still think he has a very dark sense of humor. Obviously the Maker decided to release Orion’s spark and it decided to attach like a parasite inside my sparkchamber.” It sounded as strange and stupid as I believed it would, but I had no better explanation.

“Why did Primus hear your prayer and not ours? Why did Optimus choose you, from all the other loyal mechs that followed him into war and cared deeply for him?” Ratchet voice was full of bitterness, and I could skim from his question that while he was talking about “them”, deeply inside his processor he was screaming “me”.  I knew very well he had loved Orion, and loved Optimus even more. He never made a move towards the young archivist, and I was sure he just adored Prime from afar.  

“Come on Ratchet, did you hear doctor M? She said Optimus can be whole again. Who cares why he decided to live in Megatron’s sparkchamber? His spark is back, and that is what really matters.” Knockout tried to divert Ratchet’s attention from the gloomy topic.

“Why?! He was our greatest enemy, a murderer, a psychopath!  Why did he choose him?” Ratchet was shouting now, and although his words were meant to hurt me, I could do nothing but agree.

“I´m sure Orion decided to be close to the spark once merged with him.” No bitterness, no resentments. She had never been jealous about my decision in having a second bond; Magnaria once told me my relationship with Orion could make me a better mech, let me see the things from his point of view. It did, until he became a Prime; after that moment on everything went to the Pit.

“Merged? No, no, it’s not true, it can’t be true! I was his closest friend, he would have told me!” Ratchet’s frame was shaking.  His EM field, always poised and controlled flared with indignation, anger and hate. “This is a joke, Magnaria, tell me it’s a cruel lie!”

“It is cruel, indeed, Ratchet, but it’s not a lie. I’m sorry.” My beloved offered an apology for something that had not been a mistake, neither a sin. I loved Orion and he loved me, as simple as that. It was nobody’s fault.

Ratchet’s frame slumped and I was sure he was going to off-line, but Knockout swiftly embraced him and helped him to stay on his pedes.  

Then, the old doctor did something that made me feel like slag: he buried his face-plates against the young’s chest plating, as a way to muffle his quiet sobs.

To my utter surprise, Knockout stroked the larger mech’s backstruts with his servo, a gesture full of gentleness. His red optics met mine a second, and what I saw there was nothing less than love. The flashy git surely loved the old rust-bucket, who could have imagined?

“Knockout, help Ratchet out here. It’s been a taxing experience for all of us, especially for him.  I will arrange some last details with Megatron.”

The red medic had not a problem leading Ratchet out of the room, the latter seemed lost and weakened, some coolant tears still streaked his face plates.

************

“Well, I always told you a union with that little archivist was not going to be accepted among some people, but I certainly didn’t expect this development. Close your spark-chamber, I can’t endure looking at the horrid stains that the dark energon left on your spark.”

“Magnaria, my dear, are you sure…”

“I’m pretty sure we can have Orion Pax back, it’s quite easy.  That little spark will grow up to average size once we place it inside a protoform. Of course, while we arrange the new container for him, you will have to ingest double rations of Energon. You will grow weaker if you don’t.”

That explained why I had off-lined.

“Since he looked for you and nested inside your spark-chamber, it’s almost sure the spark still retains some memories;  not “recalls” as we know them, but feelings and sensations. Probably there is still a chance for you two to be together again. But, I wonder who needs him more: you or the entire population of Cybertron. That, Megatron, will be his decision as well as yours. I know he will do the right thing, and I expect you will support his choice.”

Her words were harsh and I felt like she had ripped my spark from its chamber. But she was right.  “Whatever he chooses, Magnaria, I will accept it. But, I will need some time with him before he walks away from me towards his great mission.”

“You have changed, Megatronus.  Maybe there is a chance for both of us as well.” She smiled sweetly yet seductively, a gesture she had mastered; that and a wink from her beautiful optic had always been a way to disarm me and make my EM field flare in joy…and this time was not an exception.  

 

* * *

 


	9. Tears and Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot-metal alert  
> This chapter goes in the lines of hurt-confort-sticky sex  
> If you don't like it, you can go on without reading it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My gratitude to SilverStarWriter for betaing this chapter

Chapter 9 

Tears and pleasure

 

They were in Ratchet’s berth room. The Autobot was in Knockout’s arms, his faceplate pressed against his headlight, and his servos were tightly encircling the red mech’s shoulders.

 

The young medic had envisioned such situation a couple of times, since he stole a kiss from Ratchet. Though the circumstances were completely different then.

 

He envisioned the old mech to not be crying his optics dry of coolant, his headlight was not to be totally soaked with coolant, and their embrace to be a little more warm and loving, not excruciating. 

 

Besides, in his imagination he was been carried to the berth room by the old medic to have a private place to frag their processors out. But things turned out the other way around: Knockout had to drag Ratchet to the closest place in the med wing to prevent his team-mates to see him in his  present state of misery. Go figure, the old medic had chosen his chambers to be the closest room to the medic facilities in case of an emergency. 

 

“Ratchet, could you please put yourself together? Remember your team count on you to lead them.” He tried to calm him down, though he certainly loved having him so close, even being crushed in his strong embrace.

Ratchet chose that moment to look at Knockout, with his beautiful blue optics filled with coolant. “I can’t, I feel as my spark has been ripped from its chamber. The treason, the horrible treason Optimus have inflicted to my...our loyalty. He dared to share his body and spark with that murderer, psychopath, death thirsty beast!” He added pressure to his grip and the red mech’s shoulder joints squeaked as if they were bad oiled hinges, not to mention the young one emitted an undignified and strangulated wail of pain as well. 

“Are you mocking me!” Ratchet thundered in anger, though the effect was missed due to his sad demeanor.

“Not at all, I am really hurt...by your death grip on my poor shoulder-plates.” Knockout hissed through his dental pieces, agony obvious in his tone.

“Oh!” Ratchet widened his optics and finally released the other’s frame. “Frag! Why you didn’t tell me before? I dented your plating here!” He touched one of the injured plates as if assessing the damage. “Both shoulder plates! This will take a good hour of hammering, painting and buffing.”

Curiously, the medic coding in his processor was kicking in, and suddenly he was not crying anymore. 

 

“Well, Ratchet, you will need some buffing yourself, you have some red paint-transfers on your arms and chest.” The young medic mentioned very amused; it was not often to see such evidence of close contact, not on an Autobot’s plating at least. 

 

“Scrap!” Ratchet exclaimed, noticing the aforementioned red transfers on his usually clean, white plating.  

 

“Well I guess it is not that serious. I mean...I can buff them off with my portable buffer in a couple of minutes.” Knockout took a little buffer out from his subspace.

 

“Why do you carry an item like that around?” Ratchet scoffed. “You really are a vain mech.”

 

The ex-decepticon chuckled, then seated himself on the berth. “This could be easier if we sit, and, yes, it’s vanity as well as modesty.” 

 

“Modesty?” Ratchet was really curious now.

 

“It is not as if I like to walk around wearing other mech’s colors after an intimate encounter. You know, I may like the intense rendezvous, but I keep my personal business as private as possible." Knockout looked around the room, before looking back at Ratchet. "Do you not have some soft solvent or oil around, do you?” 

 

Ratchet reached his servo inside a close cabinet and offered a small vial of an iridescent substance. As Knockout removed the stopper, his chemo-receptors were filled by the delicious scent of crystal flower oil. 

 

That was one of the rarest and most expensive substances that were produced in old Cybertron. The young mech only had been gifted with such rarity once, at Vos, when a high ranked officer of the air forces introduced him into the ways of interfacing. A lovely massage in the precise areas of his virgin anatomy served well to make him be totally ready and comfortable of breaking of his seals. It was not the best frag in the history, but it held a special place close to Knockout’s spark, and since then the sweet fragrance of that oil was linked to pleasure in his memory records. 

 

“Well, Ratchet, I was referring to something more in the lines of thinner, or something like that. You rather save this oil for a special occasion…”

 

“I’ve been saving it long enough, but it seems there is not a real use for such finery. As it is, the actual goal of keeping it had been gone for quite a while.”  He sat on the berth, beside Knockout. 

 

Ratchet kept his EM field tightly tucked around him. Though, Knockout, given his special coding and sub-routines to diagnosis could catch a good deal of the vibration and frequency that signaled profound sorrow. 

 

Knockout knew in a klick what his colleague had been keeping that oil for. Another virgin, a loved one, one that had offered his very first time and the essence of his being to someone that the old medic considered didn't deserved it. “Optimus?”

 

Ratchet’s optics were wide with shock. “Was I that obvious?” 

 

“Let’s just say your loyalty to the Prime and your present grief can be mistaken as pure devotion by other mechs, but not by a medic. So, you kept this for him?”

 

Ratchet nodded. With that little movement of his helm he had confessed what Knockout already knew. The red mech felt touched deeply in his spark at being considered worthy enough to share such secret. 

 

“Save it a little more, would you? I think there will be a better moment…and a better mech to use such treat.” He handed back the vial.

 

Ratchet put it aside, ex-venting a sad sigh. He had imagined himself applying such delicacy on Optimus’ frame in many romantic ways, and some other ways totally unspeakable and delightful. 

 

“As a matter of fact I have some solvent left here.” Knockout took out from his subspace a little bottle of the best cleansing he had found back on Earth. Surprisingly enough, it was quite good, even to Cybertronian standards.

 

“You brought that from Earth?” Ratchet asked, moving closer to the other mech. 

 

“Yes, though there is not much left, but I suppose you can bring me some more in one of your visits to your human pets.” He winked, and applied the solvent on rag to apply it on the red smudges on Ratchet’s frame, then he turned on the buffer. Carefully he started to buff away the stains. He could have done it quickly, but he would have scratched the white finish. Truth to be told, Ratchet’s finish was not the most pristine of all, but it was decent enough as to be cautious around it.

 

“Why are you doing this?” 

 

“Hum? What? Buffing the red smudges of paint away? I thought we were clear that you can not go around with my paint on your plating. Your lovely mates could get the wrong impression and probably would do something really nasty to me.” 

 

Ratchet smiled slightly. "As if they could assume something of the sort going on between you and me. I can’t talk about you, given your past Decepticon background, but as an Autobot, I am old enough to be your sire’s sire, so I wouldn’t dare.”

 

Knockout didn’t stop his job on the old medic’s plating. “Let me get this straight. You wouldn’t dare get involved with me because you are too old. That is a stupid notion since you are in quite good and functional condition. And you think I would jump at you at the first opportunity because I was with the wrong faction while we were at war. Mind you, I may have a high sexual drive, but I’m not some maniac.”  ‘I would ask before jumping you.’  The red mech said inwardly, a wicked grin curving his lipplates.  

 

Ratchet ex-vented. 'So, the flashy glitch thinks I am in quite good and functional condition'.  Primus be blessed, Knockout was right about the functional part. He had been feeling something dangerously similar to excitement since the red mech put his spindly digits on him. He surely was doing it to keep him steady while buffing, but it was one of the most intimate touches he had experienced from the start of the war. Ratchet’s faceplates turned a very interesting shade of blue. All of a sudden the servos of Knockout, warm and gentle, felt way too good to be right.  “Fair enough, I think I have my preconceptions, sorry about that, it will take time to get rid of them. But, about my question, I was not only referring to the buff, but to your support while I was…”

 

“Crying your pretty optics dry?”

 

“I was not!” ‘Wait! Did he say I have pretty optics?’

 

“Hey, keeping you from hitting the ground was the least I could do for a colleague. It was a hard blow to your spark; you looked ready to offline there. Don’t worry I won’t tell a spark. Let’s say it is a patient-medic confidentiality.  By the way, I won’t say a word about the little detail of your crush on Optimus.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Don’t mention it." Knockout stopped buffing to look at his finished job. "Done, you are clean and shiny as new. You have to let me do a complete job one of these joors.”  He tried to take his touch away from Ratchet’s frame, but the old medic placed his big servo on his smaller one, making it stay up against his chestplate.

 

“Why did you kiss me?” Ratchet fixed his optics on Knockout’s.

 

“Well, because you were in deep need of recharge and refuel and if I hadn’t made you take a rest you would be in stasis-lock right now.” The red mech said nonchalant, though he kept to himself the fact that, for a klick, he was so damn tempted to make Ratchet go into recharge by a good overload, instead of a sedative injection.

 

“Why a kiss? I was weak, and my fuel was low...you could have overpowered me easily.” Ratchet’s servo kept the young medic’s close to the plate that was covering his very spark-chamber.  

 

It was a thick plate, since it guarded such a precious and delicate part of Ratchet’s anatomy, but Knockout could feel the pulsing-cycling vibration of Ratchet’s spark anyway. It was quite strong. The red mech extended his E.M. field and reached forward to the old medic’s frame with a soft wave of energy. It was a way to show to the other he was acquiescent to such touch and open to a friendship exchange. The ex-con hadn’t done that so often. To leave a gate open to his feelings was not intelligent move while on the Nemesis. Any other mech could, and most certainly would, use that weakness against him.  

 

“You may be surprised, but even among my mates of faction and in war, I was not that inclined to violence.  I mean, you are now a fellow, my colleague and even my friend I dare say, so, hitting you in your thick and stubborn helm was not an option. So, why not a kiss? It surprised you and gave me time to sedate you. ” He offered a confident little smile to Ratchet. 

 

Ratchet was not oblivious to the other’s field contact, the warmth and sincerity of it surprised him. He knew very well the E.M. field was impossible to mask. That was why, even in the days of peace, Cybertronians used to tucked it around their frames, as unreachable as possible.  “So you care about me…” Ratchet took away his servo and fixed his optics on the floor. “It’s good to know someone thinks about my well being. You know? The only one that paid attention to my health was Optimus. After today, I don’t know if he was truly my friend or if he only cared because I was the only medic. My point of view changed, after the news of Optimus and Megatron…by the Pit I can’t even start to think about it!” 

 

Knockout felt the loss of his servo’s warmth and removed his one too. Although, he would have love to keep his palm pressed against his chest. He made the buffer, solvent, and rag disappear inside his subspace  “It’s logical, but, come to think of it, he was, originally, Orion Pax back then, right? I suppose you hadn’t made an advance, had you?” Knockout wondered.

 

“Primus, no! He was so young, beautiful and I…well I was a hardened medic already, far too old and  from a rank lower than him.  I can’t understand how he ended up in Megatron’s berth, even less how he shared his spark with him. Interface, I can comprehend it to some extent. Gladiators had some degree of attractiveness, some ‘bots even paid good amounts of shanix to frag them. What mystifies me is Orion’s naivety, as to think that violent Gladiator was his perfect match.”

 

“You know, I am confused about this the other way around. Megatron, or Megatronus in those times, surely would enjoy fragging a young beautiful mech, but from the fleeting one-time affair to serious commitment with a mech, there is a galaxy of difference. Orion was an intellectual one, and he held no further benefits than what a young lover could offer to someone so seasoned as Megatron. I did not know my ex-leader then, it was far back in time, but probably he was somehow different. I mean, what I saw today was so out of his normal self.  He asked help for Starscream's wounds, though he used to beat that seeker so bad he nearly fell to pieces in my medbay while I patched his little pitiful battered frame. And as for the sparkling, he would have it removed by Shockwave without a second thought. I think he is honestly trying to change, mainly because my ex-master was never a good liar.” 

 

Ratchet shook his helm. “Could it be possible that he truly loved Orion?”

 

“Hey, you loved him too, and don’t forget you are by far not as miserable and loathed as Megatron. Someone as pure, naive and full of ideals as Orion maybe was as a whiff of fresh air, a moment of uncontaminated joy in the horrendous life of my ex-leader. How he would not love that?”

 

Ratched eyes cycled wide open at Knockout’s explanation. He had never thought about this. “It never occurred to me that Megatron was other than pure evil and destruction.  In fact, someone like Orion, adorable and innocent could have what he needed.” The old mech was suddenly shocked. “But he lost him! When he became Optimus Prime all those traits were lost, even the memories of his previous past…and his bonded one too. To me he only gained attractive and luster. But to Megatron…Primus, the poor fragger!”

 

“So, you fell in love with Optimus' gorgeous new plating, and his solemn attitude. Don’t misunderstand me, I simply could not blame you, Optimus Prime in fact was an optic candy. But, if I am not wrong, he was totally committed to his leadership role. You surely knew he renounced to romance, bonds, and even sex life.” Knockout explained this enumerating with three of his spindly digits.

 

“Unicron be fragged! I suddenly feel soo stupid!” Ratchet was practically fuming. “Yes, I knew it! All those long years restraining myself! Primus I can’t remember the last time I was kissed let alone ‘facing with another mech or femme!”

 

Knockout looked at the transfixed medic before him. “Restraining? So I was not so wrong when I said you were carrying around too much static.”

 

“I will pretend you didn’t say that last part, ok? Let me clarify that I am partly sad about Optimus being sparkbonded with Unicron’s spawn. Though, after giving it a good thought, I’m mostly unhappy when I remember how many times I rejected a good frag with some handsome mech or pretty femme for a stupid illusion. 

 

“Of course it was before the uproar of war sent everything right into Unicron’s Pit. Back then I was quite the sensation among young fellow medics, and some nurses, but I declined blaming the short time and long guards. I admit now that Orion gaining a good deal of attractive to my eyes when he turned into Optimus Prime had something, if not, everything to do in the matter. From that moment on I could do nothing but day-dream usually with him giving up his vows just to be with me. It’s curious how now that I was taken back to reality from my musings about the supposedly pure and unreachable Optimus. I suddenly feel how neglecting my own need was pointless.” His voice was filled with a dejected tone.

 

Knockout knew Ratchet was actually saying the truth about his many suitors. He was pleasant to the optics. Sure, well, Ratchet was not as dashing and young as the red mech, but what he lacked in luster he excelled in strength of his armor, the skilled servos and a spark keen as they come.  Moreover, he was a medic, a quite experienced one, a certified one for cry out loud! There was a time when young medics like Knockout would kill to have a mentor like Ratchet. Older and veteran medics took young ones as protégés to help them to enhance their technique and skills.  It was not only his knowledge and expertise what they transmitted in such education, which was absolutely priceless, but their dexterity in the fine art of interface. 

 

He almost sighed, fantasizing about the magic of Ratchet’s clever servos, big and firm yet precise and careful, what could  they perform on his frame and under his plating?

 

“Now, now, Ratchet, we are not in war anymore, and I’m sure you could catch up.  There is a long list of newcomers to start with.”  ‘Primus, I will include me in such list’

 

Ratchet chuckled. “Stop your engine, kiddo; I said I was a sensation ‘back then’ as in ‘millions of years ago’.  Nowadays, well, the only amazing thing about my frame is that is still in one piece. I swear nobody has come close to me for anything more than repairs, in a long, long while.” 

 

“That would be because you always keep that sourpuss attitude. Mind you, your facade never worked with me.  And about you being a rust-bucket, I never saw a mech who could work a decacycle without recharge and almost without refuel, not even Megatron, being the fragging maniacal warmonger he used to be. You my dear Ratchet, are such a piece of first-class engineering and I swear that chassis of yours could endure more than a good frag.” The red mech grinned and winked at Ratchet

 

The old medic’s face plates flushed in a shade of blue. Along with the topic of the conversation it was the way such a fellow medic used his beautiful face traits, that small wicked smile, the naughty wink. Primus he was feeling his circuitry revved-up by such simple gestures.   He cleared his voice box, and tried to bring some calm to his processor. Surely he could talk about such subject with another medic without turning blue on the face as a youngster.

 

“You surely know how our trade is, in the sexual field we are trained to help mechs and femmes in every aspect.”  Ratchet stressed the word “every” to emphasize what Knockout obviously knew: sometimes a medic had to interface with a patient if it was necessary. “Before the war it was easy.  Breaking a seal or two, bringing release to some ‘bots that were in heat and had not a partner of berth and were scrupulous about hiring a pleasure-drone. 

 

Those patients usually kept it as impersonal as the medic and often you would never see them again, and it was fine for them and for the medic.  But with my fellows is different, I have to see them on a daily basis. I use that attitude you mention to put some distance between my team members and I. I simply couldn’t let myself attend them as the medic code says; it would be shameful for them, not to mention embarrassing for me.”

 

Knockout nodded his expression a mask of seriousness.  The medical code was very specific about that, it was part of their duties. Sometimes it was pleasant to some extent, and in other times was basically nauseating. When he had Breakdown at his side, things had been easy. The sturdy mech was a medic in training, and thus he helped him with the regular duties and others not so ordinary.

 

“Primus, Ratchet, that is quite a terrible situation!  What did you do with the heat cycles? Shared your stash of porn and gave some instructions on self-service?”

 

Ratchet`s faceplates were burning and even more blue if that was possible. “As a matter of fact, yes, to those who didn’t have a sexual partner.”

 

The red mech laughed heartily. “You have to share that with me sometime; I lost all of mine during the exodus. Mind you, probably yours is a little out-dated. Hey, I’m sure there are still some of that in the Nemesis’ records. Soundwave always kept that out of reach and under lock, especially the bondage kinky films, he loved that kind of things when fragging…”

 

“Ewgh! I could have lived without that information!” Ratchet frowned in revulsion. “So, did you actually fragged the entire armada, officers and all? I was joking when I implied that!”

 

“Well, yes, as you kindly reminded me, that was one of the responsibilities of my profession. Though, as a former Decepticon, my decorum about that was a little ehm…loose. Besides, you only had your close fellows, I had to attend an entire army of Vehicons, Erradicons, and officers. If Airachnid had not been on the ship, Primus help me, I would have to attend the Insecticons. Megatron was always mulling about Unicron knows what atrocity, so my services were not required by him. Most of my patients cared nothing if we had to see to each other later, although pleasant sometimes, it was quite mechanical, to put some word to it. Having Breakdown at my side were some of the better things that happened in my life, he was always there to help me…you know, with the other duties from the medical code.” Knockout was silent; a shadow of sadness erased his usually smug expression.

 

To be totally honest, Ratchet too remembered the fact that medics and nurses used to share berths from time to time to ease the pain, the sparkbreak, the horrors of death and sickness, to keep their minds sane where others surely will crumble. More than a license to misbehave, it was a responsibility, and an honor to help the colleagues who left behind the sorrow, the sadness and the impotence after the demise of a patient. This was one of the secrets that those from the medical caste were swore to keep unspoken.  

 

“You still mourn him, don’t you?” Ratchet had forgotten that even among Decepticon’s files existed the camaraderie and even love.  

 

“I miss him horribly at night in my berth. I feel the emptiness, I miss his form at my side, even the soft sound of his exventing in recharge. Please, can we change the gloomy topic?” Some coolant was making the red optics of Knockout look specially blurred.

 

Ratchet felt a knot forming in his intake. Sure, what he felt about Optimus’ treason could not compare. That was only a crushed fantasy, but the young medic had lost something that was real, in a minute he had been left with part of his spark empty. He nodded and thus asked something that had been nagging his processor. “Sure." Ratchet tried to change the atmosphere that had taken a hold of the conversation. "I have my doubts, but you mentioned I was a piece of first class engineering, what makes you be so convinced?”

 

“Well, I had to check on you while you were out; to be sure your frame had not been damaged by the lack of rest and nourishment.” The young medic said this as it was an everyday occurrence.

 

“You tinkered inside my frame while I was defenseless!  How dared you?!” He felt totally outraged, but a small part of his processor, a very illogical part indeed, was excited about the notion of those thin digits under his plating. 

 

“Don’t be so dramatic, I barely touched you.  As a matter of fact, Ratchet, since you were very relaxed, your seams were half open, and I just sneaked a quick look here and there. Oh, what a surprise, tight flexible protoform, well irrigated and a healthy color, no signs of rust or debris!. Although you don’t give much attention to the outside, I dare say you kept your inner systems in perfect conditions all those long years of war. Hey, even that spark of yours, pulsing strong and rhythmical…”

 

“You didn’t!” Ratchet’s optics cycled widely open.

 

“Open your spark-chamber? Of course not, even I know my limitations as a medic while a patient is unconscious: I used a synchroscope. By the way, your engine purrs like a cyber-cat when you are in recharge.  You don’t run much, but I assume such vigorous engine roars like a Predacon when you force it enough.” To Knockout’s credit he kept the blush at bay, given the fact that just talking about Ratchet’s anatomy was revving him up.

 

“You had no right; my health is my only concern.” 

 

“You are wrong; the medic code says clearly that the well being of every bot is my concern.  Besides, a check-up is totally not invasive.  Rest assured I didn`t break your privacy, mainly because the seams of your pelvic area stayed totally closed.  It seems you have that part completely secured by code, even when you are off-lined.”

 

“That is war protocol, in case the enemy captures a bot. You know, to prevent…”

 

“I know very well what you wanted to prevent. Let me clarify that Megatron allowed torture, but rape was totally forbidden, it seems he loathed the sexual abuse with a passion.”

 

“Clearly there are things you have to tell me about the Decepticon faction. And about the last shred of dignity you left on me at not forcing open my lower plates, to your records, and under medic-patient confidentiality, I am still totally functional and healthy as new down there. The next time you want to do a routine check up in me ask me first, I probably will say yes.” 

 

“Right, I will. But let me differ on your diagnosis about your jolly parts, it’s impossible that an eternity of non-use could be good.”

 

“I used them regularly…only it was by myself. Don’t you dare to put that part in your records, and I don’t know why in the Pit I am having this conversation with you of all mechs.” Ratchet was really flustered with the subject.

 

“Well, you already explained me about your prerogative of auto-imposed self-service. But, for me, that is not a proper practice for long periods of time. I went to the Medic Academy too, Ratchet, and I remember quite well the lessons about interface.  Self-service is not enough to disperse all the charge, little amounts of static tends to stay running around your frame.  Although not much at the beginning, after some time it can cause glitches in the processor and…”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know that lecture by spark, Knockout, I even imparted that class myself, glitches in the processor and short-circuits in some cases.  Mind you, I know the risk, and I know very well the ways to avoid the major damage.”  

 

“Really?” Knockout’s voice was full of doubt. He put a single digit on Ratchet’s chest, right above the seam of the hard plate that covered the outer access to the sparkchamber. 

 

To Ratchet’s utter embarrassment, a big spark of static jumped from inside his frame through the seam to the offending digit. 

 

The young medic produced a soft ex-vent, and winced, genuinely concerned. “Too close to your sparkchamber, absolutely dangerous for your physical integrity. You already told me you haven’t interfaced in long time, but, when was the last time you had an overload?”

 

“I...well.  You know we lived long time among humans and, with the vigilance cameras in every room, my chances were spare. Then, when I came here, with all the work and then Optimus was gone…” He was surprised too, it had passed so much time since the last time he had vented his needs by his own servos.  

 

Though, he remembered quite well the event. That time he had just repaired some damage Optimus had endured from the last battle. The massive mech’s frame was prone and quite, under his dexterous servos, vulnerable yet trusting in his medic and friend. He had worked slowly, enjoying to the last klick the vision of such a portentous frame, the strength of his limbs and the beauty of the lines.  He used extra-time to fix dents, leaving almost invisible weld lines, not even a scratch on his beloved’s plating. Once the work was finished he excused himself and said he needed some air. It was his privilege to take a ride outside just because, since he works indoor of that uncomfortable place most of the time.

 

The truth is, he was too aroused. Only the war protocols prevented his interface array from uncovering by its own accord. He went far away from their base, his engine roaring and his frame hot with sexual tension. He entered a lonely dirty cave with the only company of an image of Optimus Prime on his medical pad and in his mind the words spoken by his leader:  _ Good work, my old friend _ . He used to be revved up by his only voice, the occasional pat on the back... 

 

Knockout shook his helm in sign of reprove. “Not enough time or better conditions for an absolutely important procedure. But, you know, now you have this chamber for your own, nobody will be spying on you, and there are no cameras, so you could do it more often now, giving it the adequate attention and time.  Besides, you can rely on me anytime you want.”

 

“Rely on you?!” Ratchet sounded totally alarmed.

 

“Yes, you know, I can cover your turn. I am fully aware of your reluctance to leave me alone when attending a patient, but when there is something of routine I could do it by myself, and you could use some time to give yourself a servo. I’m sure I can even build up a tool for you. I used to do it at the Nemesis, it can increase the intensity of the overload and it could be almost as good as the real thing.” Knockout said nonchalant.

 

“Oh, for a moment I thought you meant…” Ratchet shook his helm, a part of him was relieved, yet the other illogical part was disappointed.

 

“What could I be meaning?” Knockout replayed in his mind his offering and suddenly it hit him. He was positively exultant; this was the opportunity he had been waiting, just laid before him. And the young medic would never let a chance pass away. “Oh! Well, if that is the case, I could do that too, after all, to help our colleagues, giving ourselves freely for interface is part of our sacred and secret code. That’s it, if your Autobot’s code doesn’t collide with your profession basic beliefs, and if you are acquiescent to share your berth with a young medic.” He tilted his helm coquettishly, his red eyes dimmed in intensity, posing like the hot sexy mech he knew for sure he was. 

 

Ratchet was suddenly running the entire Autobot’s code inside his processor, half wishing there was a clause that prevented him from intimate relations with Knockout, and half hoping for the nonexistence of such thing. For Primus, he was elated by the notion, but at the same time he was totally horrified. It had been so long without proper intimacy, and there he was, that lovely, young and flirtatious mech, offering to honor a tradition. “You are not joking. Are you?”

 

“I wouldn’t do such vile thing.  Besides, Ratchet, if I gave such service to my ex-fellows Decepticons, and believe me it was just exhausting and sometimes sickening, why should I deny my help to you? You surely are a more valuable mech than that bunch of ungrateful ‘cons, more handsome too, more hygienic for cry out loud, and a medic colleague who can understand I am not some low whore, but an aide in moments of need. Giving you my attentions will be an honor to me…and a pleasure for both of us I’m sure.” He purred, slanting his helm to let his neck show blatantly. That was a true move of seduction among Cybertronian, since the neck was one of the most vulnerable parts of their anatomy…and sensitive too. 

 

Ratchet was silent, while his processor was reeling wildly stuck in the paradox: his Autobot’s convictions told him that it was wrong to partake in sexual intercourse with an ex-enemy, still on probation. Moreover, he had had a romantic disillusion just too recently. Wouldn’t it be taking advantage of Knockout’s position, using him as a rebound? To his discomfort, his frame was now starting to feel absolutely awaken, and interface protocols were out of his control, he could not switch-off them or run away in such state. Besides, he had offered, hadn’t he? It was a usual custom, among medics.

 

Knockout assumed the silence was not an invitation, but it was not plain rejection either.  He knew the doubt and hesitation was natural, given the circumstances. For the red mech offering like that was not irrelevant or trivial, but it was not deadly serious either. Though, he knew very well if Ratchet accepted, for the old medic, it would mean the end of millennia of celibacy and the breaking of his hopes in sharing a romance with his dreamed partner.  He calculated, too, that his own situation, as little less than a war prisoner, would make Ratchet feel he was abusing of his upper position.   

 

“I don’t know, you make it sound so easy. It’s not as if I haven’t done it before, of course, but it was so long time ago.” Ratchet felt how his body warming up by the klick, confusion and shame mingled with expectation. 

 

The young medic felt the chances of an acceptance from his colleague faltering, but he was not ready to surrender just yet, not now when his protocols were ready for interface. He inched closer to Ratchet and took the elder’s chin with his digit and angled his helm until he was looking right to his red optics. “No need to rush things, all this can take its rightful time for you, I understand.  But, would you receive a little sign of the genuineness of my proposal?” 

 

Ratchet found himself suddenly with his arms and lap full of red hot plating and his lip-plates trapped between Knockout’s. A kiss, once again, a heated crush of mouths, but this time he was sure the act had no second intentions. The pure purpose was to give pleasure.  Primus it was working! The old mech embraced tenderly the red frame and let his optics off-line to better feel the delicious warmth of that contact.

 

Moreover, the undulating motion of those burning pliable lip-elements and the insistent slide of the glossa against his lip-plates were sure sign of a request to enter. Ratchet opened timidly his intake and felt the hot prodding appendage intruding with serpentine agility. Guided by his newly re-awakened instincts he let his glossa join the other and before he could notice he was deep in a passionate interchange of oral fluids with the young mech.

 

Knockout, felt the enthusiast response and smiled in between the kiss. He always kept his optics half dimmed; it was simply self preservation: having intercourse among Decepticons lines and in times of war, he could not entirely relax. But, the war was over, and he felt so safe and comfortable in Ratchet’s arms, the strong spark drumming in sync with his own. He off-lined his optics completely and just let himself go. So pleasant, so damn hot. The old mech’s frame was not only nice to the optics, but it felt wonderful under his palms: no too bulky, but strong, very strong. He felt a tremor on his own plating, and a lash of charge running up his spine struts, and he couldn’t restrain a soft moan that was muffled by Ratchet’s mouth. 

 

Ratchet was losing his vision very quickly, and the vibrations of such passionate sound lead him to make a decision.  ‘Primus, help me!’   He broke the kiss, all of a sudden, then on-lined his optics. He tried to say something, but he found his voice box was failing.

 

“Is something wrong?” Knockout’s voice was weak. He was observing Ratchet with real worry. Had he upset him in any way?

 

“Ask me, please, before the Autobot in me returns.” A soft whisper, barely audible, left Ratchet lipplates. 

 

Knockout suddenly felt taken back to his time in the academy, when he was first introduced to the medic code and the correct manner to ask.

 

“I offer myself, on my free will, without further pressure or exigency, please, let me help you forget your worries, your pain and the horror of death.” Knockout recited the old formula that was intended to make a proposal of interface, sure it was old-fashion, but it sounded far better than the crude demands he had heard from many mechs. Knockout deserved a proper request.

 

“On my free will I accept your offering, let’s forget together, my brother, to our mutual benefit and the benefit of our trade.” Ratchet could not believe himself as the rightful words left his voice-box. 

 

Knockout felt as his spark had skipped a klick. Ratchet accepted! What to do now? Well, act as soon as possible, before the old medic could have second thoughts and recoil. He let himself fall nimbly to his knees, right in front of the other mech.

 

“What the..?” Ratchet exclaimed, truly surprised by the sudden movement.

 

“Shh, don’t panic, I’m a professional.” Knockout had the nerve to look at him with a sultry grin, curving his lip-plates, and his servos placed on top of the mech’s thighs, prying them apart. To his amusement, Ratchet didn’t put resistance and left his codpiece exposed before his optics. 

 

“What are you doing?” Ratchet dared to say, to his utter anguish, his voice was uneasy. 

 

“I’m enjoying the view of course. Hmm, so far, so good, though I imagine soon enough you would let me have a better -ehem-, perspective.” The red mech moved forward and placed his helm between the parted legs, nuzzling intently the codpiece. “Open for me, please.”

 

Ratchet shuddered at the sensation and the sensual request. Knockout could sound so damn hot if he wanted to. 

 

“Give me a klick, would you? I...aaah…” Ratchet moaned, the wicked red mech had licked the metal between his legs, lapping slowly the seams of his panels, from the lower part of the piece to the front of it with his hot wet glossa. The result was the sudden swishing sound of Ratchet’s interface array covering sliding away and leaving him totally exposed. His spike half pressurized and abundant lubricant leaking from his valve was evidence of his obvious arousal.

 

“Well, well, you are all revved up! Hey you have such an impressive tool here, Ratchet, even though is only half-mast!  I’m afraid that wouldn’t do.  We have to rectify that, shall we?”  Knockout didn’t lost time and engulfed the big spike with his mouth.

 

Ratchet’s almost jumped out of his platting at the unexpected onslaught. It had been so long since somebody gave him that kind of treatment. And, by far, he had never experienced a better technique! The constant suction, undulating movement of the lip-plates and the swirling motion of the glossa were sending him well high in bliss. A series of desperate intakes of air through his open mouth were swiftly joined by the sound of his fans whirring up to life.

 

Knockout was delighted, he particularly loved sucking spike, and about the size, the bigger the better. The red mech could feel how the cord was pressurizing full tilt by his ministrations. It proved to be one of the biggest ones he had worked with. Mini sparks were released by the spike’s sensorial nodes right into his intake, his palatal and glossa, it was a little uncomfortable. That was a clear signal of long time without proper overload. But, for Primus he was not going to draw back a single inch! Not until he had all the enormity of that hot metal into his intake. 

 

Ratchet proved he was a very considerate partner. Knockout could feel how he was controlling the natural impulse to thrust forward. Though usual, it was a very inconvenient custom between Decepticons to push without consideration inside his mouth. He often ended up with his voice box damaged and the offender usually leaving the med-bay or his berthroom with deep cuts by his claws on the hips.

 

As it was, the ex-con was delightfully using his wicked mouth as he pleased, and dared to let the whole spike get inside his mouth until the very tip of it touched the bottom of his intake. He closed his lipplates and mouth firmly around the cord and bobbed his helm fast and vigorously. 

  
  


“I…can’t…pleaaase…stop!” Ratchet knew at that pace he was going to overload right inside Knockout’s mouth.  Although it was so tempting, he really didn’t want to do it.  For his standards that practice was just too much for a first time. 

 

Knockout gave a last suck to the spike and then let it slip from his lip-plates with an almost obscene pop. “Don’t want to end just yet? I can understand it.” He took his time to look at the fully enlarged cord, it was almost totally white in color, but a single red line that ran from base to tip in the underside of it. Indeed, the old medic had not lied, that part of his anatomy was in perfect shape. Knockout could see the internal tissue that was visible through the imbricate pattern of plating, now flaring by the pressurized state of the rod. The flexible array of cabling and mesh looked to be in good shape and the bio-lights had the correct intensity. The valve looked in great form as well, not to mention it was leaking a healthy amount of clear lubricant. “Now, this is a view that I enjoy for sure. But, let’s anchor you to reality for a while.” He inserted the tip of one of his digits just below the last portion of the plating, under the base of the spike.

 

“What you just did?” Ratchet surprised himself with the way his voice returned to him.  He felt arousal fading, but his spike stood as firm as before.

 

“Little trick, my dear doctor, you didn’t want to overload so soon, so I just blocked that imminent impulse.  Don’t worry, it will pass as soon as I have you in the verge of it again.” Knockout looked so sure of himself.

 

“I don’t think you could do anything of that sort, glitch, I can’t feel a thing in my spike!” The old medic sounded alarmed.

 

“Oh, I don’t intend to attend your spike anymore, to my terrible sorrow since I was very happy doing it, but I think you have other place as delectable below your tremendous cord.” Without more warnings Knockout took Ratchet’s ankle joints in his servos and pushed them up. 

 

Ratchet found himself suddenly on his back, lying on the berth, his pedes in the air and his valve totally exposed. 

 

“Incredible, you look good from this perspective too.” 

 

Ratchet felt his frame burning, half in shame and half in arousal.  This was not his idea at all, he usually was on top. He was about to complain, but when the first spindly digit of Knockout delved inside his wet interface port, his processor instantly became blank. The touch was precise and skilled; it drew out sparks from his inner sensorial nodes, an involuntary contraction of his valve and a shudder all over his frame so violent some of his plating had rattled. “Primus, yeeees!” It was what he could voice out before the intruding appendage sudden deepening explorations made him moan with each movement.

 

“Oh, Ratchet, you are so damn tight!” Knockout was absolutely delighted with the sensation of that small valve squeezing hard on his digit and the incredibly hot sounds from the old medic. “You surely like this, don’t you? What about a second digit? Can you take another one?”

 

“Mmmm…ore, I… want… moooore!!” Ratchet all but pleaded, canting his pelvis up as to intensify the reach of the digit. 

 

Knockout’s own arousal was growing by the klick, the aural stimulus, the whiff of arousal thick in the air, and the vision of his colleague lost in passion made difficult to keep his own interface array closed. He could feel some lubricant seeping through the seams of the cover of his valve, and his spike trapped behind his cod piece, painfully pressurized. “Yes, my dear, of course I will give you more.” He purred, and proceeded to insert two more digits, slowly, while his thumb stroked the ultra-sensitive anterior node of Ratchet’s valve. 

 

The effect of this caress on Ratchet was devastating. Throwing back his helm Ratchet let out a shrill cry. It had been quite a while since the last time he used his own digits in his valve, so the sudden invasion of three digits was somehow painful, but the burning sensation of the stretching was nothing compared to the delighting fullness. Oh how he had missed that! And, oh the strokes on his anterior node, they were total bliss! He offlined his optics, and his own thrusts joined to the shoving motions of Knockout’s servo. He got lost in the delight, and his dignity of Autobot and the pretense of seriousness as a medic were shredded away by the blazing wave of pleasure. His desperate loud moans were those of a mech in heat that was finally satisfying the ravenous hunger for joy, for intimate contact, for release. Losing all composure the entire set of his frame’s platings flared half open and his E.M. field blazed out like a tsunami. 

 

Knockout shuddered when the energy hit his own field. He responded the hit with one of his own, adding intensity to the act. The interchange of energy in this way was almost as delectable as the physical mechanics of interface.  He felt his own frame trembling in heat. And oh how delicious sounds!  He liked vocal lovers, loud and expressive ones were his favorites. They provided not only a boost to his ego, but a powerful fuel to his own sexual drive. And this was Ratchet, stoic, grumpy old autobot medic, moaning and screaming like a wanton pleasure drone!  The red mech ex-vented a sigh, his interface array had opened and the cold air hitting his overly heated spike and valve felt harsh. It was difficult to keep at bay the strong urge to get atop Ratchet and frag him through the berth. Though, the young mech knew too well how vulnerable Ratchet was at the moment so he didn’t intend to rush such situation. He wanted to do this a little slower, and sweeter.  So he bit his lower lipplate and forced his interface protocols out of his cortical processor, buried by random nonsensical bits of code.  

 

“Primus, frag me…please...frag me Knockout!” A hoarse cry, laced with static, forced out by a failing voice box, destroyed the red mech’s resolution and not even Optimus Prime could have denied to such vehement plea, not combined with the vision of Ratchet’s faceplates painted in a deep bluish shade, his mouth open taking big gulps of air, and his frame laying on a berth with his pedes in the air and his interface array exposed in all his glory.

 

Knockout took out his digits from Ratchet’s dripping valve and in a swift motion got on the berth, then he crawled with a feline agility until he stayed looming over the old medic’s frame, face to face.  “Hello, there, mon amour, are you sure you want me inside of you?”

 

“Sssssssure!.” Was all that the old mech could utter given his totally neural net was on fire by the high levels of charge accumulated.    

 

The red mech aligned his smaller frame between Ratchet’s legs, making them rest on his shoulder plates. Using his servo he guided the head of his spike to the already prepared valve. He almost lost it when Ratchet thrust forward, impaling himself to the hilt. A hiss left Knockout lipplates and he had to use all his self-control to block his desire to ram into that welcoming heat. He didn’t want to let go that fast, he wanted this event to be special, Ratchet deserved such.  

 

Ratchet optics cycle wide, and his mouth opened in a silent scream. For a small mech as Knockout he was very well endowed. The old mech felt his calipers adjusting slowly to the girth; it had hurt, even though he had been stretched carefully. But it felt so good, after so much time of celibacy, finally having a pressurized spike deep inside him. “Ooooh, sooo goood! Move, for Primus’ sake!” Ratched all but begged. 

 

Knockout had been gritting his dentae as he felt the gradual motions of the calipers expanding for his size. Ratchet’s words made the red mech shudder in bliss, and he felt his restraining efforts slipping. He pulled out half of his spike and then thrust back in slowly. He repeated the motion again and again, every time pulling out more segments of his cord and increasing the pace. Soon he could feel the circuits forming between the nodes of his spike and the ones inside Ratchet’s valve. The charge was deliciously high, due to the long time the Autobot medic had spent without proper interface.  More voltaic arcs danced between their frames, jumping from one mech to the other. Transformation seams flared open due to the basic protocols of interface allowed the charge to enter the sensitive components under their plating.  

 

“Harder... frag…harder, faster!” Ratchet screamed between heated moans and static. 

 

Knockout lost it totally, all resolutions and rational thoughts washed away by the primal needs of his own overcharged neural net. He hadn’t felt this strong craving for release in a long time, usually he was more controlled than this. He obliged, impaling Ratchet unmercifully with his girth, using all the power in his hip joints with each thrust. Soon his moans joined Ratchet’s ones and the sound of their hot metal colliding. 

 

Their E.M. fields danced one against the other in continuous waves, making them tremble.

 

“Knock…I…am…so…close!” Ratchet whispered. His voice totally stained by the static.

 

“Go…ahead, I…I got you.” The red mech pushed Ratchet’s legs until the thighs were touching the chest plates and canting his hips as he pushed inside, deeply, touching with the head of his spike the ceiling node up inside the old mech’s valve. He did it again and again until he felt it: The final circuit was closed and the powerful jolt of electricity depleted their neural nets capacity.    

 

Ratchet screamed his overload as his valve convulsed and his spike, finally reactivated as Knockout had said, released a big load of transfluid. His E.M. field flared out with one last powerful wave.

 

Knockout’s overload was triggered by that final wave of energy, it coursed through his own frame making him tremble and groan. His transfluid filled in Ratchet to the brim of his valve and even overflowed. He rode out the last tremors of release, feeling how the valve’s walls clenched rhythmically around him. Collecting the last bits of his strength, he pulled out. He depressurized his cord and rolled to his side. 

 

Some klicks passed, while their processors began to realigned. Both of them felt some little after-overload quakes, with their optics flickered off and on. Intakes of air normalized, and fans started to power down. 

 

Ratchet rolled lazily until he was on his side. Satisfaction painted on his faceplates. He looked at the ex-con, a small smile on his lipplates. “I assumed your flirtatious ways were only a show to compensate your lack of real experience. I was wrong. You are quite good for a mech of your age.”

 

“Well, I’m not that young. Though, my dear colleague, I assume you are even more experienced than me, after all, you already said so: there was an army of suitors that wanted to put their servos under your plating. So, maybe there are a couple of things you could teach me, I mean, while we finish the proper release of all those years of charge accumulated.  No pressure though Ratchet. It is only if you want…”

 

Ratchet captured Knockout’s lipplates with his own.  He kissed the red mech languidly, taking his time to put in that kiss all the gratitude and affection that came directly from his spark. Finally, he broke the kiss and passed one of his big arms around the thin waist of the younger one and pulled the smaller form to him. “Thank you, I needed that.”

 

Knockout chuckled. “Anytime! And I mean it, anytime.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	10. Memories of old bonds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My gratitude to Illusionna for betareading this chapter

Magnaria was looking for some supplies in the shelves. She shook her helm in despair; the poor conditions in which her colleagues had been working were absolutely appalling. She decided it was in order to install a medical laboratory as soon as possible, it was totally necessary to prepare proper medications and drugs, the donations she had anticipated were not enough.

 

She reckoned the flow of exiled Cybertronians was going to be huge as soon the news reached the corners of the galaxy. People from the twenty different colonies known by her were going to make the trip just to lay optics on the home-planet, so long missed. The young ones will probably  return to their new planets after the visit. Though, there were still those that longed for Cybertron, the place where the legendary Primus gave life to them; those will stay.

 

So, receiving them and providing medical care for such a numerous population will entail a big effort.

 

Finally she found some equipment and medication that she could use. ‘Not exactly the adequate materials but it would do.’

 

Megatron had been watching her pacing and movements, a warmth sensation of familiarity filled his processor and spark. He always loved to see her like that: totally concentrated in her task. The tall straight frame and nimble movements of her arms and servos denoted a confidence in her skills as medic. Yet, even being the image of proficiency, her wings fluttered in a way that told volumes about her frustration.

 

He felt he should say something to ease the tension, try to make her smile. “So, do you like my upgrades?” Megatron surprised himself with the absurdity of his own words.

 

“As much as I like your spark stained with Dark Energon. Really, Megatron, you have to learn to think before uttering a word. Though, it seems you still are gifted in making an aft of yourself when you want to gain my favor.” Magnaria gave an angry stare at her bonded one, but a little ghost of a smile betrayed her real feelings, she still loved him. “It is a little like the way the Unmaker used to look, isn’t it?”

 

“Well, yes, a little…” He tilted his helm. “Wait! How do you know what Unicron looked like?”

 

“I saw some drawings of him on a wall in a cave on Earth. Let’s just say humans are more aware of Unicron’s existence than what we believe they are.”

 

“Humans! Did you go to Earth? When?” Megatron was totally mystified.

 

“Long story, I will tell you in another moment. Now we have more pressing business. Give me your arm, big one; I have to insert a catheter in your port to infuse you with some necessary fluids.”

 

“How so? You will not even buy me energon before?” He chuckled.  

 

Magnaria rolled her optics. Megatron had a talent with double entendre. “You wish! I will only put a bag of enriched energon and a mild sedative to help you rest.  Although it seems you have not been lacking nourishment or recharge, the little spark attached to yours is taking part of your fuel reserves, and if I am not wrong, it's controlling your processor to some degree.”

 

“You mean my attitude change is not my doing, but motivated by Orion's spark?” He winced when she inserted the catheter in the medic port of his arm.

 

“I said to some degree, like softening some sharp edges in your usual behavior.  I know you enough as to discern what is caused by your little host and what come from your charming, tumultuous spark. Don't worry, as soon as we remove Orion from you, you will return to your customary sweet self.” She snickered, connecting the bag to the catheter and suspending it from the support hanger.  She cringed at the sight of the aforementioned device; it was a totally makeshift contraption, not a proper medical one.  She made an inner note to add some of those to the equipment they would donate.

 

“You know, _Wings,_ I had already changed, when this little slagger decided to nestle inside my sparkchamber.”

  
_Wings_ ? She smiled, that was a nick-name her patients and loved ones used back in the times when she lived in Kaon. _Doctor Wings_ , given she was one of the few aerial medics. For people of Vos to get into the medical caste was a dishonor. Although winged, she was not Vossian.

 

“I know you had. Remember?” She tapped her chestplate.

 

“Ah, yes, that beautiful spark of you is bonded to mine.”

 

“Try to not forget it in the future, OK?” she scolded him.

 

“Don’t worry, my memories of you are in place again, it’s impossible to forget someone like you, nor the moments we spent together. Have I told you how incredibly beautiful you are?” He lowered his voice to a soft tenor.

 

“Flattery will take you nowhere with me. Though it is nice to know after all this time, you’re still are capable of uttering such sweet talk and using your smoothest tone of voice. Ok, done, you will recharge like a sparkling very soon.”

 

“I understand the enriched Energon, but why the sedative?”

 

“Because I want to prevent your processor malfunctioning. As long as that spark stays attached to your own, it’s only natural for it to try to override your protocols, erase your coding and eventually take control of your body. After all, a spark alone can’t live long without the support of a frame, the Well of Allsparks and other receptacles of concentrated spiritual energy.”

 

Megatron frowned in doubt when he heard the part about _“other receptacles of concentrated spiritual energy”_ , he had read about it, long time ago in an ancient novel. The aforementioned devices, supposedly, were sacred vases that could contain sparks, by means of magical and mystical energy. To him, it sounded as stupid as trying to store a spark in a flask.

 

“In theory, disembodied sparks behave very much like real sparklings, they need to consume a big load of coding and minerals in order to develop into a whole being. Though, in sparklings the coding is provided in the first states by the sire’s transfluid in combination with the carrier’s. Since your gestational chamber is empty − and probably will be for a long while until I decide to forgive you for the dark Energon episode− we have to keep you idle. If you are unconscious, only the code that keeps the vitals running will be active, so that little one will stay dormant. The experts will prepare the equipment to give that spark a new frame.” The femme took from her subspace another pair of monitoring modules, just like the ones he had given to Ratchet.

 

Megatron’s optics went wide with the realization; maybe keeping the spark hadn’t been a wise decision. “But, I will be defenseless; anybot could enter here and snuff me while I’m offline. You know only Optimus’ beliefs and Ratchet’s good spark is what keeps me alive right now. There are a bunch of Autobots outside that would gladly blast my spark-off. Besides, after the revelation of my prior relationship with his beloved Prime, Ratchet surely would be eager to witness my demise.” He saw how Magnaria inserted one of the cards in her wrist port.

 

“I assure you, I will see to your safety. As soon as I leave, I will put a couple of guards on front of the door. I will tell the Autobots it is for protection, though, I won’t mention it is for your ~~s~~ security and not theirs.” She put her servo on Megatron’s massive chest plate and inserted the other card on one of his medical ports.

 

“Do you trust me that much?” He put his big clawed servo on hers.

 

“Yes, what I feel from your E.M. field and the warmth of my spark when I search our bond tells me enough, you know you can’t hide such things from your sparkbonded.” She removed herself from his touch and proximity.

 

“I still don’t know how that happened. I mean, you sparkbonding with me. What in the Pit did you see in me, to bond with a ruthless gladiator?”

 

“I always had a soft spot for the hopeless ones, plus with my big frame, I discouraged more than one suitor. You see, a femme towering over them was more frightening than romantic. But you…well, let’s say you had everything I craved.” She smiled seductively, while giving Megatron a bold once-over. “Primus, you still have a good deal of that, even under those bizarre upgrades.”

 

The ex-con chuckled. “It’s good to know it. What about Orion? He even had the nerve to say I was equal to the other mechs and climbed on my berth so freely. How did that small beautiful youth decided to ask me as his bondmate?”

 

“I suppose you were lucky, twice.” She smiled and punched his chestplate playfully.

 

“I’m sorry, I forgot totally of my responsibilities with you when I used the Dark Energon.” To his credit, he looked truly contrite. “I wonder if Optimus felt some distress in his spark when I infused mine with Unicron’s blood.”

 

“Maybe, but that Prime thing shielded him from damage and it gave him strength that no other mech had. If he felt something, it was nothing like the agonizing pain I suffered. Besides, his link with you was lessened, on his part mainly. But I know you still have your part of the connection intact.”

 

Megatron remembered the awful feeling of Optimus’ spark extinguishing; horrid could not describe it properly. In opposition, the sensation of Magnaria’s spark as she got near had filled his own with joy, warmth and longing for her. That had been his main reason to bury his memories of them. The war probably would have had a short life, since his feelings for them would surely have smothered his resolution.

 

“I was so angry when Orion was taken away from me. They took my beloved one, a beautiful innocent creature, and gave me back a cold grim warrior, eager to support the Council. If only I had given it a second thought…But I just mulled about my misery and it never crossed my processor that I still had you by my side. My harsh acts, my madness caused so much grief, death and finally the destruction of an entire planet!” The ex-gladiator shook his helm.

 

“It’s a little late to consider that, Megatronus, rather look forward, all the good you could do with that massive frame of yours, and the brilliant mind you have inside that thick helm.”

 

“If only it were that easy! I guess after you remove Orion’s spark, the Autobots will design a vile destiny to me. Maybe they will drop me into a melting pit, or rip my spark from its chamber while it is still pulsing.”

 

“Not while I have a saying in that. Perhaps an eternity of hard work to rebuild this planet will be sufficient. Besides, there are not many of us left, the ones who remember how Cybertron was. It’s our duty to restore our planet, not how it was before, but how it should be. Our testimony of the oppression of few mechs over millions will be necessary. As soon as there are more Cybertronians back to this renewed planet, they will need leadership and guidance. People like Ratchet, you, and me have the real idea of what not to do when rebuilding a society.”

 

“You sound like Orion. Pretty little idealist, he was.” He felt suddenly dizzy. It was the effect of the sedative. “Frag, poor Ratchet! You should have kept the secret of Orion being bonded with me. I knew Ratchet was in love with Optimus. At first, I thought it was only loyalty, but as time passed, I was sure a bot that claims allegiance doesn’t look at his liege as the old one looked at the Prime. After all, even as Orion, they had known each other for a while before our paths crossed. That small mech had that effect on bots, he inspired confidence, sympathy, devotion. How could I deny anything to him? My body, my spark… I guess he didn’t lose that, even as a Prime.”

 

“I assume you fell in love with him because of that.”

 

“It helped that he had a cute little aft too.” Megatron chuckled, though his voice-box was failing.

 

“Oh, yeah, that! Well, I confess, I considered seriously to bond with him as well, we could have been a fine trine.”

 

Megatron felt his faceplates burning blue with the confession. He had been fantasying with such a trine, too.

 

“You really are a wicked femme, you know? Poor Orion would die in shame the minute you propose such thing. Though, he would jump into it headfirst after considering it a couple of klicks. He was not as ingenuous as everybody assumed. I concede, he was a little naïve, but he had a good deal of determination.” Megatron’s optics were offlining slowly. “Your aft is cute as well, but your wings and those long legs are absolutely a sight from the Well…” Before he could notice he was in deep recharge.

 

‘By the pit, he even looks cute when he is so peaceful.’ Magnaria said inwardly.

 

*****

 

The femme left the recharging mech’s side and motioned towards the berth where Starscream was lying on. Nothing had changed.

 

Magnaria ex-vented in distress, she could imagine how much the poor seeker had suffered. As a medic, she had seen such things before, in her time in space she and her crew had rescued not few Cybertronians from the clutches of pirates. The buccaneers had raped repeatedly such bots, mech and femmes, most of them had been at the brink of death.

 

She shook her helm, as if the move could erase the horrifying images from her processor. She calculated she had to make many arranges. It was better to start right now.

 

She opened the com with one of the medics still on the Dauntless.

 

‘ _Thunderblade, I hope I didn’t interrupt you.’_

 

‘ _Of course not, Captain, it is quite calm, since many of the people are out of the Ship,’_ _said a p_ leasant voice very poised and refined.

 

‘ _I will need you to prepare a regeneration cylinder, medium sized, the necessary nanites and ore to rebuild a whole set of interface equipment, and the other supplies to clean and prepare the patient. I will take him there tomorrow after dawn; our medbay is better suited for the process.’_ She inwardly promised herself to remedy that. She would give Ratchet the clinic he desired and deserved.

 

‘ _We haven’t had one of those in long time. Somebody had a bad experience, then?’_ The concern was evident in the cultured tone.

 

‘ _You don’t have an idea.’_ She knew that even though experienced attending victims of sexual abuse, nobody would imagine a mech being defiled by enormous beasts supposedly extinct.

 

‘ _So, will you do the honors?’_ The mech asked politely.

 

‘ _No, I think the patient would feel better with one of his same kind.’_

 

‘ _A seeker! What in the name of Primus could break a seeker’s interface array? You know we are quite resistant over there.’_ The other medic replied in shock.

 

‘ _Resistant yes, unbreakable I’m afraid not. Prepare yourself, though, the seeker is known by his arrogance and short fuse. Starscream is not an easy bot.’_ She had the displeasure to treat him when he was but a youngling.

 

‘ _Starscream? The prince of Vos?’_ Thunderblades replied, surprise tinted his voice.

 

‘ _The same.’_

 

Many people who survived Vos destruction was aware of the name of the seeker, his allegiance with the Decepticons and the real reasons that motivated him to choose the faction lead by Megatron. It was a reason unspoken, a secret only shared by his own people, and few out of Vos. Although they didn’t like Megatron’s methods, they sincerely loved the seeker who dared to speak aloud.

 

‘ _I thought he had been off-lined permanently like his brothers. Well, I think there are some people that would be glad to know of him.’_ The seeker was exultant. Like many others, he held more than sympathy in his spark towards Starscream.

 

‘ _Surely, but let’s keep it unspoken for now, it’s better to wait for his recovery_ ,’ she recommended, though the people under her command knew very well when a recommendation was a veiled order.

 

‘ _Understood. Do you need anything else, Captain?’_

 

‘ _Do we still have enough material to prepare a creation matrix?’_

 

‘ _Yes, we have enough to make more, if needed. Is there an Autobot sparked? I’m sure they are not used to the old-natural way of carrying a sparkling.’_

 

‘ _No, it’s not an Autobot, it's an ex-Decepticon. Prepare an adult size chamber; it’s not precisely a sparkling…’_

 

‘ _A parasite spark? Now, that’s quite rare! Don’t worry, I will have everything ready. Probably, I will not attend the Feast_ _._ _A case such as this sounds way too interesting as to lose the chance to participate.’_ He sounded really fascinated.

 

‘ _Until tomorrow, Thunderblade.’_

 

‘ _See you then, Captain.’_

 

She opened a private com-link and asked two of his most trustworthy officers to come to her location. She knew Megatron’s fear about being terminated while offline was not mere false impression, it was a reasonable prospect, given his past actions.

 

Magnaria decided it was time to look for Ratchet and be sure he had recovered. Suddenly, some very particular sounds coming from the adjacent room caught her attention.  Although barely audible given the thickness of the walls, they were clearly desperate moans of passion, male ones. A very unmistakable noise of metal hitting metal gave her a clear hint of what was transpiring in that chamber.

 

She adjusted a tad her inner audials and recognized the timbre of the voice.  Though high in pitch and laced with static those sounds came from Knockout’s voice box. But, hadn’t the young medic gone along with Ratchet? At the same time, she heard the husky voice of Ratchet almost totally blurred by the static.

 

Yes, Ratchet was with Knockout, after all.

 

Magnaria cycled widely her purple optics. ‘So it seems they have come to an understanding.’  

 

She smiled, remembering how common this was among medics; to bury pain, spark-break and other harsh events by interfacing with a colleague. The day by day of a medic was filled with things that could make any other bot enter into a neuronal collapse. It was only natural to search help in the arms of their peers to release some of the stress accumulated. If she had not been bonded, she probably would have done the same.

 

Though natural, she knew the other Autobots wouldn’t understand it, not like her.  After all, the red mech was still on parole and probably would be by a good amount of time until they trusted him.

 

What to do? She hated the idea of interrupting the encounter. Magnaria had not passed a complete solar cycle among the saviors of Cybertron, yet she discovered they were more than little unfamiliar with the notion of healthy sexual intercourse. Even though all of them kept it well concealed, the high levels of static were unmistakable for a medic of her expertise. As the humans use to say: _‘the tension was as thick as to be cut by a knife’_.  Plus, she was quite sure her two medic colleagues were just newly re-discovering the aforementioned custom of their trade. It would be a shame to disturb their activities so abruptly.

 

Then she heard it, and even through a thick metal-concrete wall she felt it, a powerful wave of overload. It lacked the intensity of spark-bonding, yet was strong as to make her EM field flicker in a small but distinct response. She even noticed a couple of her transformation seams flaring slightly, and her wings fluttered. ‘By the Unmaker, such a good frag!’

 

Magnaria left some klicks pass, to be sure they had already finished, and to put some order to her flustered self, frame and field. Then, making sure to make noise with her steps she walked to the closed door. She took an intake of air and activated the access panel. ‘Not locked!’ she thought as the door swished open.

 

“Frag!” was the first thing uttered by a very exposed Ratchet. He used both his servos to cover his half depressurized spike.

 

“Again! So soon?” Knockout who was lying on his side with his back to the entrance, was oblivious to the sudden intrusion of the femme. Then Knockout noticed Ratchet was looking at the door and languidly rolled on the berth. “Gaaaah!” The red medic screamed and covered as well.

 

“Oh, come on, I have seen my share of spikes, I’m a medic too.” She snickered and shook her helm. “I came to tell you Megatron is sleeping as a sparkling and the celebration is not cancelled.” She turned around and while she was leaving the room she activated the lock of the door. “Next time, secure the entrance, Ratchet, we don’t want one of your prissy little mates having a seizure by the vision of their ex-enemy deep to his hilt inside their medic officer. Try to make yourselves presentable, you two need a good shower, and don’t forget to buff-out the paint transfers.”

 

Both medics looked at each other, noticing only then the aforementioned paint transfers, adorning the lower part of their frames, not to mention the clear stains of transfluid and lubricant already drying.

 

The femme closed the door. Just in time to see the bots she had called stomping their way towards her. A mech and a femme, large and bulky in frame inclined their helms.

 

“Starblaze and Darkness, good timing. I have a mission for you two. Please stand guard before that door. Don’t let anybody enter or go out, understood?”

 

The big bots looked at each other and then back to their captain.

 

“You have a doubt, don’t you?” Magnaria had known them for a long time as to read very well the uneasiness in their frame language.

 

“It’s true? Megatron is in there?” The femme, the one with the designation Darkness dared to ask straightforward.

 

“That’s correct, he is in that room, under a sedative and with a strange condition that needs treatment as soon as possible. I don’t have to remind you how important is to avoid any confrontation with the Autobots. It’s imperative to let them believe you are here to prevent some kind of Decepticon’s foul move.”

 

“But, if he is incapacitated to do so and the seeker he brought is equally ill, why would the Autobots assume they are in a condition to do something of the kind.” Starblaze asked, even with his imposing frame. he had an innate shyness that transpired in his voice.

 

“I don’t have to remind you there had been a cruel war going on for millions of years, a conflict between Autobots and Decepticons. Even though both factions blasted their opponents into pieces, some could say the Decepticons were the bad side of the equation. They used to be more violent and vicious in their ways of battle. Some Autobots hold strong grudges against former Decepticons. Megatron was the leader of the Decepticons, so he is the principal target of such hate.”

 

“But surely the Autobots sent their quota of sparks to the Well, too. I mean, in a war soldiers die in both sides, as well civilians. War is such a useless thing” the mech replied.

 

“It is, indeed, but now war is over and peace was restored in the planet, yet peace in the sparks will take a long time. Psychological wounds are hard to repair, some leave deep scars. Until it happens, Decepticons are in danger.”

 

“So, Autobots could try to snuff Megatron’s spark. I may be wrong but the Autobot’s motto goes in the lines of equality, fraternity and freedom, doesn’t it? Would they not forgive and forget their enemy?” Darkness questioned.

 

“Well, if Optimus were alive, things possibly would be different. But he is not among us anymore, and without him, the ideals would be easily forgotten. I can’t say I blame them for wanting Megatron permanently off-lined, I am well aware of his horrible deeds. Some of the battles were real massacres.” Magnaria lowered his eyes to the floor, images from the past made her spark stagger. “But, let’s don’t delay; are you ready for your mission?

 

“Yes, Captain,” both said as one.

 

“I will send relieves later. I will comm you when the time comes.”

 

“Can we see him?” Starblaze’s voice was hopeful.

 

“Not yet, maybe later. When he is fully recovered, I will present him with the news of him being your sire. I know he will be very proud, totally astounded, but proud.”

 

TBC.


	11. Pride and Prejudice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta for this one, as my beta-reader is still working on it. As soon as she send it back I will repost it. 
> 
> Please don't flame me, I am not native speaker so probably you will find mistakes.

While the medics were attending the ex-Decepticons, the other Autobots were in the mess room discussing the way to cope with the event.

“We can’t stay idle as Ratchet lets Megatron stroll freely through our base!” Wheeljack stormed.

“Well, it seems we have no choice, Jacky.  You saw the seeker; the state of his frame was pitiful. He never looked that bad, not even when he went rogue back on Earth. And he had some big scars that surely seem to be marks of huge fanged jaws. I thought the predacons were regular beasts, but what they did…” Bulkhead replied, shuddering in horror.

“Not to mention Megatron is carrying a sparkling. Monster murderer or not, he can’t be unassisted, surely the little one is not responsible for the carrier’s past deeds.” Arcee added.

“So we stay as if nothing had happened? It seems Ratchet is being badly influenced by that femme!” The white Wrecker snapped.

“I don’t think so. Ratchet is only acting as Optimus would do if he were still among us. Besides, that femme, although a little too…frank, doesn’t seem to be a trouble, even if she is Megatron’s bondmate.  She had acted politely towards us, and generous too.  Well, Magnus offended her, so her outburst was comprehensible.” Bumblebee stated.

“Plus, she has a frame to die for!” Smokescreen exclaimed.

Arcee shook her helm; she surely disapproved the rookie’s remark. “Beautiful or not, I never saw a ‘bot, femme or mech, talk to Megatron like she did and stay on-line, surely she can keep him in order.  If Ratchet trusts her we should do the same.”

“Of all the people, Arcee, I thought you would disagree in helping the seeker.” Wheeljack commented.

“I still have my resentment towards Starscream quite fresh, don’t misunderstand me. Though, what he suffered is something nobot should endure. Besides, he had to be healthy and functioning when I snuff his spark.” She didn’t mean the last sentence, but she had a reputation to maintain.

The soft voice of an unknown mech surprised them. “Excuse me, have any of you information of the place designated for the feast.  I have to indicate my fellows where to put the furniture, the glassware and the drinks.”

The one talking to them was a mech by his voice, though the colorful paintjob and his plating were quite feminine, not to mention the embellishment of his faceplates, golden lines around his optics and blue paint on his lips. He was as small in frame as Arcee.

“How did you pass the security?” Arcee snapped.

“Security? Well the entrance to this base was unlocked, and for what I can see the whole staff is reunited here, so there was not a sentinel.” The mech explained.

All the helms turned to see at Bulkhead.

“Hey, don’t look at me I ordered the drones to stand guard.” The big mech said.

“Oh, those poor mechs? Were they the guards? They looked too tired and bad fueled, I sent them to recharge and they did as I said.  Really, I think they assumed anybot that is not built from a mold is superior to them and could order them around. I wonder which tyrant spread such belief among them.”

Bulkhead winced; in fact the drones were used to be ordered around and mistreated by their Decepticons’ masters.  Minus the physical abuse, the ex-wreaker behaved towards them in the same lines. About rations, they were given enough to function; that meant substantially less than what any of the Autobots’ quota.

“First of all, what is your designation and linkage with this…feast?” She asked, an intonation purely martial, as if she was talking to a cadet.  

“I am the coordinator of the activities. Designation? Oh, you mean my name, I am Lightningdasher, though you can call me Dash, is shorter and familiar. And you, fair one, would be…?” the little mech addressed Arcee tilting his helm, using a soft tone of voice and giving her a small smile.

Arcee was taken by surprise, and some strange feeling nested inside her spark, as if the light inside her chest was fluttering. She was not used to be treated so courteously. Not that her teammates treated her rudely, but for them she was only another soldier, a friend, almost as she was another mech…not a femme.

He cleared her voice-box. “My designation is Arcee, These are Bulkhead, Wheeljack, Bumblebee and Smokescreen.” She made the presentations.

“It’s a pleasure to meet all of you.” Dash inclined his helm slightly. “Well, as I was asking, have you designated a place for the celebration?” He took a little pad from his subspace.

“Well, we have not many places to gather so many people, but we had almost rebuilt totally a little stadium just beside this base, we were hoping to accommodate refugees there.” Bulkhead replied, he and the vehicons had finished the construction the day before. No last details and all, but it stood firmly.

“Ok, let’s see it, we have lot of things to prepare before the dawn. Does the sun sets in this planet?” The mech touched the screen of the pad, seemingly entering information.

“It does.” The femme replied.

“Wonderful a nightly banquet is always way more charming than a lunch.”

*********

Arcee was in wonder, looking how the vast hall had been turned into a big luxurious refueling central.  She had seen something like that only in records, from old times, in a bad movie, a Cybertronian thriller not less.  The characters, the light plated femmes, beautiful mechs and sturdy detectives moved around in sumptuous places of the sort. The images were totally alien to her, she was relatively young and the furniture she was used to was simple, practical and sometimes it was badly worn out.

For her everything was like taken out of that old movie: from the tables made of polished metal, iridescent chrome designs on their surfaces to the chairs of the same material, with seats of something that looked like silver fabric cushions. Then, to complete the illusion dozens of cups were put over the tables. These latter were real ones, not disposables container for energon, but carved clear crystal goblets.

To her utter amazement, a last cargo was being delivered: Big beautiful decanters full to the brim with the clearest and most brilliant Energon she had ever seen.

“I think it will be enough for our feast, though we have some other varieties of High Grade Energon for the more daring bots. Obviously we will put some dispenser of regular Energon, there are some of us that don’t like to be buzzed at all.” Dash was checking items on his pad, seemingly taking note of things done.

“So, that is High Grade. I never had the opportunity to taste it. I mean, with the War even common fuel was scarce and…” Arcee caught herself. She didn’t want to sound so eager, or interested in such frivolities. Though, she had a curious vein in her processor that made her wonder about such beverage. Was it as good as some claimed? Did it really make oneself overcharged?

“Where are my manners?” The mech exclaimed, he moved to the nearest table and took one cup and gave it to Arcee. Then, he took a random bottle of High Grade and poured a reasonable amount for the femme.

Arcee looked transfixed the clear liquid, it was shimmering with hundreds of golden bubbles that danced in cadence inside the liquor. She dared to take a small sip. “Primus, it’s incredible!” She exclaimed and this time she took a whole swallow.

Dash laughed softly, a girlish chortle. “Easy, Arcee, you don’t want to get overcharged, at least not just yet. Though, it could help you relax a little and leave the Spartan posture and demeanor. A beautiful femme like you should not be that serious all the time.” He commented, a hint of flirtatious mood in his words.

The femme’s faceplates turned bluish in embarrassment and indignation. “I am a soldier, and soldiers must be stoic and committed to their task.” She handed the glass to the mech, the drink still filling half the container.

“Well, I believe your task has changed, my dear.  War is over, and soldiers as well as any other bot have the sacred mission of celebrating. Will you stay here a moment? I have to communicate with the Captain, she will be proud.”  Dash put the goblet back on the table and left a very thunderstruck Arcee standing in the middle of the Hall.

She suddenly had realized her duties as soldier were not needed anymore and a strange feeling of hollowness nested in her spark.

*****

Wheeljack and Bulkhead were helping to unload the cargo.  

Some vehicons were transporting the furniture and tableware to the hall, working pauldron to pauldron with mechs and femmes from the Dauntless’ crew. They were showing for once what they had ability for. Nor a single goblet had broken, and the customary clumsiness in their assigned work in construction was absent in this task.

“So they seem to be at ease doing this. No wonder they are a total disaster when working on building up.” Bulkhead commented, leaving on the ground an enormous metal box.

Wheeljack used a crowbar to lift the lid of the box. The vision of lots of containers full with a silvery liquid made the Autobot exvent in longing. “I’m not a connoisseur but that gleam is unmistakable. Hey Bulk, look, it’s Fieryspark! And for the look of it seems somebody learned how to brew it as good as it was done in Tarn.”

“Never liked it that much, you know, it was way too expensive, abrasive in the intake and my tanks were revolted the day after.” The big mech commented, his rude faceplates cringing in distaste. Suddenly his optics went wide in surprise. “Now, that is something I surely like.”

Wheeljack followed his partner’s optics and saw a tall slender femme.  She was walking servo in servo with a little sparkling. The two walked towards one of the trucks that had transported cargo. Some whirring sounds later and plates shifting and realigning revealed the root form of the truck, it was another femme. The two adult bots kissed and then the little mech was taken in arms by the latter one.

“I thought you were not into femmes that much.” Weeljack elbowed Bulkhead. They were partners in arms as well in berth, but Wreckers used to share, so the white mech wouldn’t mind his mate having an affair with somebody else.

“I’m not, I was talking about the sparkling.” Bulkhead declared ingenuously.

“Bulk, I want to believe you are talking about wanting to have your own sparklings.” Wheeljack asked cautiously.

“Sure, what other thing would you believe?  I always wanted that, a family, with kids and all. But the war sent everything into the Pit. Maybe now, after rebuilding and having a degree of peace...” The big mech ex-vented in hope.

“I haven’t thought of that, but it sounds kinda nice. I’m not that fond of leaving away as much as I used to. I did it when I had not a place to call home. But now, even though the cities are ruins and it will take long time to rebuild, maybe we could make a little home for you and I…and some kids too.” Wheeljack was convinced of his words.

Bulkhead beamed at the prospect. “I promise you I will be a good sire to our sparklings.”

Wheeljack’s optics went wide with the notion, he surely was not ecstatic at the idea of carrying; especially carrying the kind of sparkling Bulkhead could create. “We will see later, I promise, but right now, I look forward to that feast and at least a glass of that Fieryspark.”  

********

“Did you see those femmes, Bee, I am sure at least one of them was looking at me in return. Wow, that one, Galatea I think that is her designation, she is beautiful! I had never seen somebody so gorgeous. Her face is absolutely perfect, those plump lips, and the sapphire optics. And what a frame! Did you notice her long legs?”

Smokescreen had been talking non-stop, and with each word Bumblebee felt more and more flattened. He had been doing some work in the way of a romantic bond with the rookie. Nothing too bold, of course, or obvious for that matter, but he had been sure to feel some good waves from his EM field, warm enough as to not be mistaken as solely friendly ones.

“Yeah, yeah, they are perfect.  Have you nothing to do? Guarding the doors of our base as Arcee asked you to?” He repeated feigning nonchalance, while he felt sick at his spark. The truth is that the femmes were truly a sight. He was not used to see that kind of bots, or in such great number. He had assumed all femmes looked the same Arcee did. Although the two-wheeler was pleasant to the optics, the ones that arrived were…well gorgeous was a good description. ‘Primus! The flawless red and white polished finish of Galatea! How a bot could look so immaculate?’   He gave himself a quick look and just with the light examination he saw how opaque his luster was and how many little scratches crossed his plating.

“Come on, Bee, let that station alone, you are losing all the fun. Surely there won’t be more expatriates arriving soon, so why to stay here or at the doors?” Smokescreen punched playfully Bee’s arm.

“Enough,  Rookie! Maybe you are going to neglect your work because a pair of long legs and a nice aft, but I have my job and I plan to do it, so, please leave me alone.” He had never used his voice so harshly since it had been restored. For a second it felt somehow good to diminish his friend. Yet immediately he regretted the cruel invective.

“Wow, what got into your processor?” Smokescreen looked a little hurt by the words, though he had a light spark and all the new developments of the day had him in great spirits, so he didn’t take the reply so seriously. “I know! You like that femme too!”

Bee widened his eyes in distress. He ex-vented slowly, trying to regain some presence of processor. “Look, Smoke, I am not interested in her or any other femme as a matter of fact. Right now I am trying to keep a degree of attention to the surveillance cameras. You saw what happened. That mech entered and we were totally off-guard, he could have…”

“What? Hit us to death with his pad?” Smokescreen laughed.

“This is serious!” The young warrior was angry to say the least.

“I’m serious; can you imagine that little mech trying to overpower one of us? With his lithe frame and funny painted face, prancing around and carrying his little pad´s screen with those miniature servos…” Smokescreen mimicked the mannerism of Dash, from his swinging way of walk to the coquettish posture, even placing his servo in the air as if holding a pad and touching with the digits of the other where the supposed pad would be.

“Bravo! You look exactly like Dash. You have talent for comedy young one.” The amused voice of Magnaria was accompanied with the metallic sound of clapping.

Smokescreen let escape an undignified squeak, and almost tripped on his pedes when he tried to assume his normal stance.

“I…was. It was not mockery…” The words were stumbling out of the rookie’s voice box.

“Don’t worry, I know Dash has that effect in mechs, especially the youngsters that are not so experienced in treating with all kind of people.”

Smokescreen felt as if a bucket of chilly water had fallen on him. That femme had called him a youngster! That word coming for her sounded as if she was implying he was just a sparkling.

Bumblebee had to suppress a fit of laughter. ‘Serves him well’

“So, our dear organizer had been around and surely put everybody in motion. I hope he is not causing the usual rush. Ultras like him are perfectionist and their natural fast processor functioning rate is difficult to cope with.”

“Ultras?” Bumblebee asked. The term was unknown to him.

“Ultralights. Well, most of them are the result of adaptive mutation. Back in time, some of our colonies suffered a grave shortage of energon and most sparklings didn’t make it to the end of their gestational stage. Though, it seems the few that survived were particularly small, lithe and fast, not to mention they don’t refuel as often or in the same quantity as a regular Cybertronian. Of course, the mutation was inherited by the next generations. They are extremely efficient, but are a little temperamental about details. Though, they are easy-going most of the time.” She explained.

“So I was not wrong, Dash doesn’t represent a threat.” Smokescreen still sounded a little hurt in his pride.  

“You are used to judge a mech based on the size and the impressiveness of the plating. I assure you Dash is as proficient in battle as any other mech the triple of his frame.  Of course, what he lacks in size he outstands in agility and speed. In the colonies martial arts are taught to any mech or femme since they are but sparklings; Dash happens to excel in such field.” The femme clarified.

“See? I told you!” Bumblebee looked self-satisfied.

“Well, maybe he is a good adversary after all, but not against us. I mean, you don’t plan to conquer Cybertron or kill us, do you?” Smokescreen asked to Magnaria, Bumblebee covered his face with a servo in embarrassment at the naive question.

“No, we don’t. But, you don’t seriously think we would tell you if we were planning something of the sort.” Magnaria chuckled, amused at the young Autobot’s innocence.

This time Smokescreem turned very blue in the faceplates. “I suppose no.”

“Where are Ratchet and Knockout?” Bumblebee asked trying to divert the topic from the obviously mortified rookie.

“They are still in the med-wing, discussing some minor technical details. I know you didn’t ask about them, but Megatron is sedated, he needs to recharge for a good while. Starscream will recover physically, after a couple of surgeries of course. Though, he will need a good deal of psychological counsel.”

Bumblebee facial expressions hardened at the mention of the ex-Decepticons. “I didn’t ask because we are helping them simply out of sheer pity and since that is what Optimus would do. We are not very concerned about their health.”

Magnaria straightened her posture; her frame suddenly looked absolutely terrifying. Her tall frame towered over the two Autobots, her wings were up in defiance, and the anger in her general stance was clear. “Well, if they are a burden for you, they won’t be as well for us.” She growled, a sound they had never heard from another mech but Megatron, turned around and walked back to the med-wing, a couple of digits on her audials.

“Wait, what do you plan to do?” Bumblebee noticed too late his mistake. His words surely had offended her. Decepticon or not, Megatron was her sparkmate.

*****

She didn’t stop her advance until she was standing right before the door to the medbay and her offspring.

Exactly at that moment Knockout and Ratchet were leaving the adjacent room, all the evidence of their previous activities cleaned and buffed away. The obvious relaxed expressions of both suddenly disappeared as well when they noticed the enormous femme that looked fuming and ready for a fight, talking to the equally huge and heavily armored bots.

“Starblaze, Darkness you two will carry Megatron, I will take the seeker, a transport will be waiting outside, we are leaving for the ship. I don’t intend to let them stay here a klick more.” She ordered, entering the room.

The big bots followed her.

Knockout and Ratchet looked at each other with equal perplexed expressions.

The older mech recovered from his surprise first.

“Magnaria, what’s wrong?” He addressed the femme that was leaving the room with a still unconscious Starscreams in her arms.

“Everything was wrong since the beginning, Ratchet.” She hissed like a furious cyber-feline.

The Autobot medic widened his optics in shock, he had never been the target of her anger, and whatever had happened had seriously incensed her.

The other bots came from the room carrying the heavy ex-decepticon leader’s frame, one of them holding him under his armpits, the other by the pedes.

Knockout was watching the display in wonder.  He noticed with surprise that the big mech called Starblaze looked remarkably like Megatron.  His faceplates were free of scars, of course, but the frame and the color and even the form of the helm were far too similar to be a coincidence.

“Wait, what happened?” Ratchet insisted, standing in her way.

“Ask the black and yellow speedster, he will tell you clearly how he feels about my sparkmate and the prince of Vos being attended by his medic in their facilities. Don’t worry I will free all of you from the problem.” She continued her pace, forcing Ratchet to move aside.

“But, what are you intending to do?” Ratchet asked walking at her side.

“What I swore to do when my medical chevron was given to me, give medical care to all Cybertronian fellows, no matter their allegiance, caste or beliefs. Moreover, they are no Decepticons anymore, nor Autobots, they are neutral, so they belong with me and my people.”

Ratchet felt suddenly struck in his spark by her words. He stopped his tracks and looked her and the other bots walking away.  

Knockout joined him. “She recited part of the medical vows, didn’t she?”

“The most important part, Knockout, the most important.” The old medic ex-vented in sadness; he had assumed all the Autobots would agree with his decisions. Clearly, they didn’t. He missed Optimus more than ever, the weight of leadership was suddenly showing how heavy it could be.


	12. The wrath of a medic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still no beta, so you probably will find mistakes.
> 
> If anybody wants the job I am open to suggestions.

 

The Autobots and those bots from the Dauntless that were helping with the setting up of the party had witnessed the arrival of the medical vehicle, Magnaria and company carrying the patients to it and then leaving for the ship.

“That is strange; I thought they would attend those two in your facilities.” Dash commented to Bulkhead and Wheeljack.

“They would, maybe Starscream was in worst condition than what really appeared. Probably your medical bay is better suited than ours.” Wheeljack shrugged.

“Well, yeah, my sister Minerva told me captain Magnaria commented your new clinic and the medwing needed equipment, and medicines. It seems she made arrangements to donated spare things from the ship. Some of your friends, vehicons I think you call them, already carried some crates full with medical energon and basic stuff to the clinic.”  The ultra said casually.

“So that’s what was stored in the ones marked with the strange glyphs.  By the way, when did you talk with your sister?” Bulhead was confused; they had not seen Dash talking with a femme, besides Arcee. 

“Minerva and her friend Galatea remained in the clinic, they were assigned to organize the medical supplies. But, we keep in touch via comm. links. We can coordinate better that way, and we are monitored by the communication officers in the ship.  Cybertron is not a very welcoming planet nowadays and it’s not convenient wandering around without proper escort or at least a tracking device to check on our safety. All of us have one of them, in case of an emergency.”

“That is true, with Predacons on the loose and Primus knows how other foul creatures lurking in the ruins, it’s not safe to go farther. We eliminated a couple terrorcons just two cycles ago.” Wheeljack was just opening other crate. “What are these?” He said puzzled, he had never seen the apparently crystal orbs.

“Oh, finally! Those are lamps of plasma. No event is complete without them. You will see, along with the luminescent strips on the walls, they give such a wonderful illumination!” Dash said excitedly. 

“You mean those things the vehicons had been sticking to the walls of the hall? But they are not luminescent.” Wheeljack commented, taking out one of the mentioned lamps.

“As soon as enough Cybertronians get near the strips will be stimulated by their E.M. fields. Both the lamps and the strips use very low levels of energy, basically whatever static lingering near, we don’t spend precious Energon in illumination .” Dash explained.

“You guys really invented astounding things in your exile!” Bulkhead beamed, he genuinely liked the diminutive mech and his forwardness.

“Well, we had lots of idle time. Besides need is the engine of creativity, and there was a time when we surely were in badly need of so many things.” The ultra smiled, but a sad ex-vent betrayed his inner feelings about the subject.

*******

“Bumblebee! What in the Pit did you say to Magnaria?!” Ratchet was fuming.  

“I never thought she would react as she did.” Bumblebee sounded regretful.

“That’s precisely my point, you didn’t think. What did you precisely say to her?”

“Something in the lines of not being primarily interested in Megatron’s or Starscream’s well being.” Bumblebee tried to diminish the real connotation of his words.

“I may have some malfunction in my audials, Bee, but I heard you said her that we were helping them simply out of sheer pity and since that it’s what Optimus would do. And yes, you said that we were not very concerned about their health too.” Smokescreen felt it was not point in lying, since the truth would be known sooner or later, as soon as Ratchet talked with the femme.

“You told her what!?” Ratchet bellowed.

“It was just my opinion, Ratchet, and we are allowed to have one, even if it is not of everybody’s liking. Megatron and Starscream are responsible for lots of destruction and death, not only among our comrades but among civilian population as well. Why would I be interested in their well being? ” Bumblebee tried to justify his words.

“Your opinion, of course! As if you haven’t pointed that WE, as in all of us, were attending them out of pity. An about the evil deeds they are responsible for, I remind you they were not the only ones blowing Cybertronian people to pieces. I am pretty sure our faction sent as much sparks back to the Well as ‘cons did, soldiers and civilians.” Ratchet was bellowing.

“But we never did it on purpose! Those were accidents!.” The young soldier said.  

“Are you implying that Decepticons did snuff neutral’s sparks on purpose?” Knockout asked, really scandalized.  He had killed a couple Autobot’s, in the battle field, and even tortured one or two, but to shoot a civilian in cold Energon? That was utterly ridiculous and plainly vile, even for the average ‘con.

“Well, maybe not deliberately. But you didn’t care for other’s lives as we did, we suffered for all the lives lost.” Bumblebee words had an acidic tang that sounded amiss in someone so young. Memories of so many of his comrades dying, civilians trapped between the crossfire of blasters, buildings exploding, old and young bots, even sparklings all turned into charred husks of metal.

“Let me enlighten you, Bumblebee, I was this close to have my medical chevron, and was planning to install my own clinic of aesthetic surgery.  Then, without a warning, I was enlisted by Megatron to attend casualties from the battlefield. You don’t know how many sparks extinguished while under my care, not only soldiers. The families of our soldiers were living in our quarters, the carriers and their sparklings. Those barracks were reduced to ashes by a Wrecker’s raid. The survivors were so severely damaged that there was nothing I could do to help them. So don’t you dare to say we Decepticons didn’t suffer!” Knockout voice broke.

“Enough, both of you, it’s not time to discuss who lost more and who is responsible for such loss. Clearly we all share not only the grief but the guilt as well.” The old mech measured well his words to be as objective as Optimus would be. In fact he wanted to comfort Knockout, but he should not show favoritism, not while he was in leader’s role.

“And as for Megatron and Starscream” Ratchet continued “They are neutral now, so until they are recovered and suitable to face a trial, if it is the case, we have the responsibility to give them medical help, not by pity, but because is the right thing to do. Besides, Megatron may have the key to bring Optimus back to us, so his health is absolutely our concern.”

“Bring Optimus back from the Well? Are we talking about the same Megatron? The Spawn of the Unmaker? The terror of Kaon? .” Smokescreen’ s intonation mirrored Bumblebee’s puzzled face.

“The same, though I ask you to control your glossa, at least in Magnaria’s presence.  I will explain it later. Right now I need to think over a way to fix the mess you managed to put us all in.” He directed his scolding voice to the black and yellow speedster.

“Are you going to talk with her?” Knockout asked.

“Well, yes, it’s the least I can do. But after Bee’s offensive words I guess putting myself at reach of the fusion cannons of the “Dauntless” is not wise. As it is, I think they will consider only fair to vaporize me on sight.” Ratchet shook his helm.

“Don’t be dramatic, they are neutrals, not Decepticons, they probably would give you a warning before snuffing your spark.” Knockout snickered.

“Now, that’s comforting!” Ratchet replied.

“Magnaria is short fused, of course, but maybe a good apology could smooth the edges. You could say to her that Bumblebee is still too young and prone to fits of Autobot fanaticism. Adding an explanation of how he is much repented and that he will face a disciplinary action because his rash words would not harm either.” The red mech said.

“Watch it, ‘con!” Bumblebee shouted at Knockout.

“It sounds good to me, and of course there will be a disciplinary action.” Ratchet agreed with his colleague’s suggestion.

“But...Ratchet, you can’t be serious. You are not going to follow this decepti-scum glitch’s advice. Are you?” Bee asked incredulous.

“Well, of course, when a recommendation is fitting and valid, as it is now. Besides, should I remind you that Knockout is one of us now? I don’t want to hear you offending again a fellow in such way.” Ratchet said.

Knockout’s spark fluttered inside its chamber. Ratchet had actually defended him.

“By the way, keep a watching optic on the entrance to our base, I recently noticed the enormous security breach we have.”

“But, Ratchet, it was only a little flimsy mech with a pad!” Smokescreen explained.

“I think he is talking about those two gigantic mechs that carried Megatron outside the base.” Bumblebee whispered to Smokescreen

“Oh! Yes, I suppose they entered at the same time, along with Dash.” The rookie said, shrugging. .

“Dash?” Knockout asked.

“The feast organizer. But, maybe after this, the party would be cancelled.” Smokescreen interjected, he looked appalled.

“The party?!!” The old medic growled in indignation. “I am talking about a possible chance of having our leader back and you are worried about a party being cancelled!”

“Ratchet, calm down. You will blow a fuse and there aren’t spare ones for your model.” Knockout joked, patting the old medic’s arm. “I will take care about the party business, you can go and talk to Magnaria.”

“Ha,ha, very funny!” Ratchet replied grumpily, but he found out it was impossible to be angry with the mech that only moments ago had made his very spark pulse in pure content, and his old frame reel in overload.  “Are you sure you can see to this…feast thing?”

“Sure, celebration is my kind of thing!” The red mech said.

“Wait, can we do anything to help?” Smokescreen asked.

“Yes, you go to the entrance and keep this base from being packed with people. Bumblebee, you already did enough, but I suppose you can keep your optics glued to those monitors.

Ratchet, Knockout and Smokescreen walked towards the entrance of the base. Once outside Ratchet  transformed and rushed towards the horizon, where the frame of the Dauntless looked diminished in the distance.

“Imagine that! Optimus coming back from the Well! I’m sure everything will be better when he comes back, he is a great leader, a compassionate mech, the most extraordinary…”

“Why are you so sure Optimus is in the Well?” Knockout cut short Smokescreen’s jabber.

“Of course he is in the Well! He is a Prime! He can’t be in Unicron’s Pit!” Smokescreen said.

“Being a Prime doesn’t guarantee a place in the Well of Allsparks. After all, Megatronus Prime and even Sentinel Prime may be in the merry company of the Unmaker right now. But, what I meant is, what if Optimus is no more in Primus’ Hall of heroes?” Knockout was wearing his winning smile.

 “Where would he be then?” The rookie asked.

 “You wouldn’t believe it.” Knockout grinned impishly, transformed and took the road towards the stadium. ‘I want to see their faces when Ratchet tells them where their beloved Prime is and why is he there’

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My gratitude to those that left Kudos and Comments.


End file.
